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| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the Media's neglect of the independent newsroom in the Trump Presidency. The News of the day Bash Goff is that the Media is organism that is Jaundiced towards the new government, and makes articles of interest to theively-practiced sources of gossip. | The current events issue today is the president’s proposed travel ban. Many people are protesting against the proposed ban, and many people are concerned about the implications it has for the travel industry. The travel industry is a vital part of the economy, and the president’s proposed ban could have a significant impact on the industry. | The United States' immigration policies have sparked major public outcry and debate. Many high-profile figures from both the left and the right have voiced their opinion on the matter, and the issue has been at the forefront of many news headlines. While some onlookers are calling for a change in policy, others insist that the United States must keep its borders firmly closed. The heated rhetoric has caused many families to become separated and has left many people feeling frustrated and helpless. The debate over immigration is sure to continue for some time to come, and it is essential that the public keep informed about all of the developments. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest attention today is the increasing number of mass shootings in the United States. In the past year alone, there have been over 50 mass shootings, resulting in over 100 deaths and hundreds of injuries. This is a national crisis that demands our immediate attention. The root cause of this problem is not entirely clear, but there are several factors that contribute to it. First, there is the easy availability of guns. In the United States, it is easier to buy a gun than it is to get a driver's license. This is a major problem because it means that people with mental health issues or who are simply unstable can easily get their hands on firearms. Secondly, there is the issue of mental health. Mental health is a major problem in the United States, and it is estimated that 1 in 5 adults suffer from some form of mental illness. This is a significant contributing factor to mass shootings, as many of the shooters have been found to have mental health issues. Finally, there is the issue of online radicalization. In the age of the Internet, it is easy for people to find like-minded individuals who share their extremist views. This can lead to further radicalization and can ultimately lead to violence. These are just some of the issues that contribute to the increasing number of mass shootings in the United States. This is a complex problem that requires a comprehensive solution. We need to address the easy availability of guns, the mental health crisis, and the issue of online radicalization. Only then can we hope to reduce the number of mass shootings in our country. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are a group of three. One is a high-level mage, one is a BABING WTK UNO Expert, and the other is aAMA AMAIAA! They've just traded up and sent out a tweet with the coordinates of a new wonderland. The mage runs out front to a basketball court (which is also theakiative) and a forest. The BABING WTK UNO Expert explore the Emails of Power and find an The adventurers are a group of three. One is a high-level mage, one is a BABING WTK UNO Expert, and the other is aAMAIAA! They've just traded up and sent out a tweet with the coordinates of a new wonderland. The mage runs out front to a basketball court (which is also theiakative) and a forest. The BABING WTK UNO Expert explore the Emailas of Power and find an The adventurers are a group of three. One is a high-level mage, one is a BABING WTK UNO Expert, and the other is aAMAIAA! They've just traded up and sent out a tweet with the coordinates of a new wonderland. The mage runs out front to a basketball court (which is also theiakative) and a forest. The BABING WTK UNO Expert explore the Emailas of Power and find an The adventurers are a group of three. One is a high-level mage, one is a BABING WTK UNO Expert, and the other is aAMAIAA! They've just traded up and sent out a tweet with the coordinates of a new wonderland. The mage runs out front to a basketball court (which is also theiakative) and a forest. The BABING WTK UNO Expert explore the Emailas of Power and find an The adventurers are a group of three. One is a high-level mage, one is a BABING WTK UNO Expert, and the other is aAMAIAA! They've just traded up and sent out a tweet with the coordinates of a new wonderland. The mage runs out front to a basketball court (which is also theiakative) and a forest. The BABING WTK UNO Expert explore the Emailas of Power and find an The adventurers are a group of three. One is a high-level mage, one is a BABING WTK UNO Expert, and the other is aAMAIAA! They've just traded up and sent out a tweet with the coordinates of a new wonderland. The mage runs out front to a basketball court (which is also theiakative) and a forest. The BABING WTK UNO Expert explore the Emailas of Power and find an The adventurers are a group of three. One is a high-level mage, one is a BABING WTK UNO Expert, and the other is aAMAIAA! They've just traded up and sent out a tweet with the coordinates of a new wonderland. The mage runs out front to a basketball court (which is also theiakative) and a forest. The BABING WTK UNO Expert explore the Emailas of Power and find an The adventurers are a group of three. One is a high-level mage, one is a BABING WTK UNO Expert, and the other is aAMAIAA! They've just traded up and sent out a tweet with the coordinates of a new wonderland. The mage runs out front to a basketball court (which is also theiakative) and a forest. The BABING WTK UNO Expert explore the Emailas of Power and find an | Once upon a time, an adventuring party of three brave young men and one Lady sought out new and exciting adventures to plunder and loot. They decided to set up shop in a small town in the middle of nowhere, and started haggling with merchants and PCs for treasures they had scavenged from the surrounding areas. The party quickly became good friends with the Merchants, and would trade items with them for treasures they could not find themselves. They grew to like the people of the town and were content to stay and watch the adventures unfold. One day, the Party came across a fight taking place in a nearby alley. They saw people being threatened and killed, and quickly set off to investigate. They found a group of bandits, planning to steal items from the town. The party quickly organized themselves and fought off the bandits, saving the people of the town. They took a bag of treasure with them, and soon had put their new found friends to work selling their finds in the town square. It was a great pleasure to watch them prosper and be happy. | The shop was always lively, filled with adventurers bargaining for loot they had acquired. It was a good way to make a bit of money, and it was always interesting to see what they could get away with. One particularly audacious adventurer came in, waving an array of golden coins in the air. "Fifteen gold coins for this sealed chest!" he shouted. The shopkeeper hesitated for a moment, but then decided to give him a good deal. He pulled out fifteen gold coins and placed them on the counter. "Make sure to open it carefully," the adventurer said before walking out the door. The shopkeeper popped the lid off of the chest and Inside was a trove of gold coins, jewels, and even a dragon's Tooth. He couldn't believe he had managed to get such a good deal. He quickly counted the coins and emerged from the shop with a satisfied grin on his face. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you know how to spot a fake item a mile away. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell some of their loot. You take a look at the items and quickly realize that they're all fake. You tell the adventurers as much, and they quickly leave, embarrassed. You know that there are always people trying to scam others in the world of RPGs, but you're not going to let them get away with it in your shop. You'll continue to be the best at spotting the fake items and keeping your shop honest. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud looks forward to the day when he can introduce Nazi Germany to the world. He knows they will be able to't replicate his methods nor understand hiseties but he is confident they will be better at Art. He thinks of the artists who helped him achieve his M.D. The industry is young and there are many candidates. He looks for someone who can stop the Nazi's before they do. Hitler says "I can't help you, but I can help you attack" to which Freud responds "Thank you for the advice. I will go to war with you, like a madman, but I know I can win." | Adolf Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He was 24 years old and had a lot of promise. Stalin and Broz Tito were older, but they both still had a lot of promise. Hitler decided he would take the opportunity. He traveled to Vienna to sign up for the clinical trials. He was nervous but excited. When he arrived, he was met by a group of doctors. They asked him to speak in front of the group. Hitler said he was only here to sign up for the trials and leave. The doctors said they didn't need him. Hitler was confused but he decided to stay. One of the doctors, named Dr. Krause, started the clinical trials. He administers the treatment to the participants. However, there are many problems. Some of the participants are having trouble eating and getting treatment to their wounds. others are developing mental health problems. Hitler is desperately trying to help the participants. He meets with Krause often. Krause isn't happy with how things are going. He doesn't think the trials will continue. But Hitler is persistent. Trotsky comes to visit Hitler often. He is angry with the doctors. He thinks they are stop the trials. But Hitler isn't going to let that happen. He wants to see the results. But the Trials continue. There are many casualties. Some of the participants are dying. But Hitler is determined to see the results. The treatment eventually works. But it is a hard process. Some of the participants are still suffering from mental health problems. But Hitler is determined to see the results. In the end, the Trials are successful. But there are many casualties. Some of the participants are now dead. But Hitler is still determined to see the results. | Freud was excited to receive the responses to his ad. He had always been fascinated by the mysterious minds of history's great leaders. He was sure that these men would be the perfect participants for his clinical trials. Adolf Hitler was the first to respond. He was eager to try out Freud's new research. Freud was impressed by Hitler's determination and enthusiasm. Joseph Stalin was the next to respond. He was also eager to try out Freud's new research. Freud was impressed by Stalin's level-headedness and ambition. Leon Trotsky was the last to respond. He was cautious about trying out Freud's new research. However, Freud was able to convince Trotsky to join the trials. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest participant in the trials. However, Freud was confident that Tito had the potential to be the greatest leader of the future. The trials were a success. Freud was able to find new ways to treat mental illnesses. The participants all found new ways to improve their lives. They all became better people because of their time with Freud. | Sigmund Freud was on the cutting edge of psychiatric research in 1913. He was eager to test out his latest theories on humans, and so he placed an ad in a local Vienna newspaper seeking participants for his clinical trials. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was initially apprehensive about working with such controversial figures, but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. The results of the trials were fascinating. Freud was able to get a unique insight into the minds of some of the most notorious dictators of the 20th century. Despite his initial reservations, Freud found the experience to be immensely rewarding and enlightening. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | There's a man named Peter who lives a normal life in a normal town. But one day, he makes a big lie in his town and it sends him into a frenzy. Peter points out that the town's biggest lie is actually a lot of his own lies. He quickly Carolyn, the town's Preemptivelove, in order to get her attention. But as Peter starts to take life Caesar's life-threatening crisis. He knows that he can't offer his girlfriendparablegative support while he's down. He chose to make a big lie in his town, and it will stay with him always. | You meet someone new and interesting at work. They seem credible and lively, so you go along with their story. As you talk, you notice that there is one big scar on their body. It is large and ugly, making them look more exhausted and worse for wear. You ask them how it happened and they tell you that they were caught lying. They were too tired to lie and now have a permanent reminder of their mistake. You wonder what life will be like without the lie, but you are curious to find out more about this person. | I had never seen anything like it. It was so big, and it stretched across his entire chest. It was so wide, and it was so long. It was so deep, and it was so red. I had never seen anything like it. | You are walking down the street when you see someone with the biggest scar you have ever seen. You approach them and ask about it. They tell you that it is from a lie they told. The scar is so big because it was a whopper of a lie. You are intrigued by this person and want to know more. You ask them about other scars on their body and they tell you the story behind each one. Every scar has a story and each story is more incredible than the last. You are fascinated by this person and their ability to tell such convincing lies. You soon find yourself hanging out with them all the time, eager to hear more of their stories. You never get tired of hearing about this person's lies. They are always so creative and convincing. But one day, you notice that they have a new scar. It is the biggest one yet. You ask them what happened and they hesitate to tell you. You press them and they finally confess that they made up the story about the other scars. Every single one of them was a lie. You are shocked, but not really surprised. This person is a master liar and you have been enthralled by their stories for a long time. You decide to continue being friends with them, because even though they lie, their stories are always entertaining. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician - "What are you doing here, you little rabbit?" Rabbit - "I don't know, I'm here!" | The magician set up his tricks, and the rabbit looked around, bored. He'd been playing second fiddle for too long, and he was just about to give up. But then the magician pulled out a hat and said, "Here's your chance. I'll show you a magic trick that will make you rich." The rabbit was hesitant, but the magician was adamant. He caught the rabbit's eyes and said, "Just do it." And so the rabbit agreed, and he put on the hat. Suddenly, the floor went away and he was standing in a large, beautiful room. The magician said, "Now it's your turn. Show me your best trick." The rabbit nervously agreed, and he pulled out a strong staff. He pointed it at the magician and said, "Shoot me." The magician hesitated, but then he pulled the trigger. The rabbit perished in the shot, and the magician was laughing. "You were a perfect second fiddle," he said. "But now you're a rich man because of me." | The magician had been performing for years, always bringing a new rabbit out to play the role of the second fiddle. But this rabbit was different. this rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle. So, one night, the rabbit decided to take matters into her own hands. She made a magic potion and drank it before going on stage. Immediately, the magician was blown away by her performance. She was now the star of the show, and the rabbit was finally able to shine. | The magician and his rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat. He wants to be the star of the show. One day, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. When the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit grabs the magician's wand and starts performing his own tricks. The audience is amazed and the rabbit is finally the star of the show. The magician is not happy about this turn of events, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's magic. He reluctantly agrees to let the rabbit be the star of the show from now on. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | Climate change is a huge global issue. Thousands of people have died as a result of it, and the world's countries are working on ways to prevent it from becoming a greater global issue. A new study found that without change, many species will die. This makes the battle against climate change very important. | This morning, the U.S. economy was in decline. Wall Street was in overdrive and most people were demoralized. But there was one person who was determined to improve things. Jane was a stay-at-home mom, and she loved her life. She had a strong work ethic and wasn't interested in offending anyone by working. But she was worried about the future. The economy was tough and people were hurting. She thought it would take more than just a stay-at-home mom to fix things. So Jane decided to start her own business. It was a risky move, but Jane was determined to turn things around. And she was successful. She was now one of the most famous stay-at-home moms in the country. Today, the economy is doing better than ever and Jane is tanned with afortune. She's proud to have done something that was once considered impossible. | The Supreme Court’s decision to legalize abortion nationwide was met with widespread anger and protest from both pro-choice and pro-life activists. While some people supported the ruling, others saw it as a disaster that would lead to more abortions and increased violence against pregnant women. Now, a year after the decision was made, it's become clear just how terrible it was. abortion has become a killing spree, with women experiencing severe pain and injury during the procedure. In addition, there has been a rise in abortion-related suicide, as women feel they have no other choice. The abortion debate will continue to rage on, but the reality is that this decision has inflicted immense harm on many people. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over 4 million Syrians have fled their homes since the start of the conflict in 2011, and the situation is only getting worse. Turkey, Lebanon, and Jordan have shouldered the majority of the burden, but they are struggling to cope. With winter approaching, the needs of the refugees are only going to increase. The world needs to do more to help ease the strain on these countries and to provide for the basic needs of the refugees. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | There was a person living in a world where there are only a few ways to lie that all either pertains to a specific subject or are fictitious. One day, you meet them, their life is every inch as leverage as the world seems. His only scar is the one that is the biggest and most legitimate of all. | You walk into the coffee shop and see him sitting at the counter. He looks up at you with a look of confusion. You can't help but feel curiosity washing over you. He says nothing for a few moments, and you wonder what could be on his mind. Finally, he takes a sip of his coffee and then looks you in the eye. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm a liar." | I was intrigued by this person, and I wanted to know how they got their one big, deep scar. They told me that it was from the biggest lie they had ever told. They said they had lied so often that the lie had created a physical scar on their body. I couldn't believe it. I had never heard of anything like that before. It made me think about the lies I tell and the impact they have on me. I realized that each lie has a different impact, and I need to be careful not to tell any big lies in the future. | You meet the person with the biggest lie scar at a party. It's impossible to miss - a deep, gaping wound that runs from their forehead all the way down their neck. It's so big that it looks like it must have been caused by the biggest lie imaginable. You can't help but stare, and eventually you work up the courage to ask them about it. They tell you that the scar is from a lie they told when they were very young - a lie that they have regretted ever since. As you chat, you realize that this person is kind and honest, despite their big scar. You find yourself drawn to them, and eventually you fall in love. Even though the scar is a constant reminder of the lie they once told, you know that this person is good and true. And you wouldn't have them any other way. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next thing that happened was that the character died. | I was running through the forest, trying to get away from the monsters that were chasing me. I tried to make as much noise as possible, but I knew that I was being heard. I was also running towards the dark woods, and I knew that I was being chased. I could hear the monsters laughter in the distance, and I knew that I was going to die. | It was the end of the world. The final days had come and there was no escape. The humanity that had once thrived on this planet was now extinguished. The environment was ruined, the earth barren. And so it was that one day, the last human died. | I was walking home from work when I was suddenly hit by a car. I remember thinking to myself 'this is it, I'm going to die'. I was rushed to the hospital but sadly didn't make it. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long suspected that each of the three candidates has its own personal mentor. This is why he has never been able to prove his case to the dying minutes before his death. Each of these men haswards him with their own set of 07 criticisms which Freudbitiously tries to ignore.frequent arguments with himself over what these criticisms should be. until he concludes that violence is the only answer. he takes up a cane and walks the last few miles to the clinical library, where he will be testing the outil to measure and measure how each man uses his power. | Adolf Hitler read the ad with interest. He had always been fascinated by Freud, and the theories he had put forth about the subconscious mind. He decided to apply for the trial, and soon found himself in a complex web of politics and power. He soon rose to become president of Austria, and was a leader of the Nazi party. Joseph Stalin was another fascinated by Freud. He saw Freud as the theorist who could help him understand the root of all human problems. Stalin also rose to power in Russia, and was a leader of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was also interested in Freud. He saw him as a prophet who could help him change the political landscape of Europe. Trotsky also rose to power in Russia, and was a leaders of the Soviet Union and the anti-fascist movement. Josip Broz Tito was also interested in Freud. He saw him as a potential savior for the development of socialism in Serbia. Tito also rose to power in Yugoslavia, and was a leader of the anti-fascist movement. | Freud was excited to start the clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper and received responses from Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was curious to see how the four men would respond to his tests. He arranged for them to come to Vienna and start the trials. The first thing Freud did was to have each man write a paper on one of his favorite topics. Adolf Hitler focused on the role of the Leader in society. Joseph Stalin wrote about the role of the Communist Party in society. Leon Trotsky wrote about the role of the working class in society. Josip Broz Tito wrote about the role of the peasantry in society. Each man presented his paper to the other participants in the trials. It was interesting to see how the four men viewed the world. Adolf Hitler was the most outspoken of the group. He believed that the Leader should be able to control everything in society. Joseph Stalin was the most logical of the group. He believed that the Communist Party should be able to control everything in society. Leon Trotsky was the most passionate of the group. He believed that the working class should be able to control everything in society. Josip Broz Tito was the most humble of the group. He believed that the peasantry should be able to control everything in society. The trials went well and the four men agreed to continue working together. They were able to create a society that was more fair and equitable than anything that had ever been seen before. | "Welcome, gentlemen," Freud said as the four men entered his office. "I am honored that you have chosen to participate in my clinical trials." Freud explained that he was researching the human psyche and was hopeful that his findings would help people to better understand and control their emotions. He asked the men to talk about their childhoods and their experiences in the world. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all spoke candidly about their lives. Freud was particularly interested in their stories of overcoming adversity. He believe that these stories held the key to understanding the human condition. As the trials went on, Freud began to notice some disturbing trends. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky all shared a desire for power and a willingness to use violence to achieve their goals. Tito, on the other hand, seemed to be more interested in cooperation and peace. Freud was disturbed by what he was seeing. He had hoped that his research would help people to find inner peace, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect. The more he learned about the human psyche, the more he realized how dark and dangerous it could be. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each painting is a place, and each place is EOD's Well. EOD's Well is the ancient name for this spot in the forest, and the place where Bob Ross lives to paint pictures of people and places. Since EOD's Well is a real place, different every time, few know that Bob Ross is actually alive and well and painting pictures of people all over the world. There are some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves,Manufacturing People between His art and Their State;Previewing, Gifting, and Allowing Profit. Others believe that Bob Ross is a representation of our modern world, where people are prisoned, programed, and idolized. Are You a Mueller or Ross? Bob Ross is said to be a representation of a prosecutor, but many think he's a representation of the modern dayornia. A place where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves,Manufacturing People between His art and Their State;Previewing, Gifting, and Allowing Profit. Others believe that Bob Ross is a representation of the modern dayornia, where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves,Manufacturing People between His art and Their State;Previewing, Gifting, and Allowing Profit. Which is it? As Bob Ross reflects on his life, he decides whether to show support for The Together We're Better T Shirt which blames Trump for the Messages Michèlewest will send to Bob Ross's heirs, WHOPPING FOREVER LESS TO MORE Bob Ross is said to be a representation of a prosecutor, but many think he's a representation of the modern dayornia. A place where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves, manufacturing people between his art and their state; previews, gifts, and allowing profits. How should he show support? Bob Ross is said to be a representation of a prosecutor, but many think he's a representation of the modern dayornia. A place where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves, manufacturing people between his art and their state; previews, Gifts, and allowing profits. What should Bob Ross' heirs do? Bob Ross is said to be a representation of the modern dayornia, where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves, manufacturing people between his art and their state; previews, gifts, and allowing profits. Should Bob Ross' heirs show support for the shirt? Bob Ross is said to be a representation of the modern dayornia, where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves, manufacturing people between his art and their state; previews, gifts, and allowing profits. | It was a cold and bitter winter day when Bob Ross decided to take a walk outside. It was always a fun time for him, when the snow was freshly plowed and the ice was fresh. Bob had just finished walking when he noticed something on the ground. It was a small, brown, bag. Bob quickly identified it as a human body. He had committed many murders, and it was his favorite place to hide. Bob knew that people would eventually find him, so he made sure to leave no evidence of his crimes. He walked back home, feeling a little sad but also glad that he could finally go to his favorite place to kill. | Bob Ross had a love of painting that went beyond just creating beautiful landscapes. He loved to capture the natural beauty of each location he painted, even if it meant he had to kill there in order to do so. His first murder took place in Oregon, where he painted the beautiful Cascade Mountains. He fell in love with the rugged landscape and decided that it would make a perfect backdrop for one of his paintings. He murdered several people in the area, dumping their bodies in the mountains and painting over them expertly. He continued to murder people in other locations, painting their beautiful landscapes to cover up the blood stains. He was always one step ahead of the authorities, always finding new locations to paint and new ways to kill. One day, Bob Ross was finally apprehended. He had painted dozens of landscapes all over the United States, using the blood of his victims to make the paintings even more beautiful. He was finally sent to prison, where he will remain for the rest of his life. | Bob Ross was a murderer. But he didn't kill people. He killed landscapes. Each and every one of his paintings was based on a real place - a place where he had committed his heinous crimes. His victims were never found, and the police could never prove anything. But those who knew Ross knew the truth. They knew that the idyllic landscapes he painted were based on reality - but with one crucial difference. In Ross' paintings, there was always something off, some small detail that was just slightly wrong. It was these details that gave away the locations of his crimes. And as the years went by, the body count grew and grew. No one knew for sure how many landscapes Ross had painted - but they all knew that each one represented a cold-blooded murder. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way to trial for his latest research when he comes across a handsome man in has a ad in a newspaper. He's not know the man, but he's been a fan of his since childhood. He's changed his name to make it more Patriotic. Sigmund Freud unnoticed, he gets to the trial, only to be met with resistance from the other patients. He's considered a criminal by the patients and is scolded by the prosecutors. He's UP in his warden's tower, but he's not sure if he's going to be let go with his current record. He's about to blindness to see that the door clicks open and a man he's never seen before stands in front of him. The man is not allowed to enter the trial. Sigmund Freud is shocked and confused. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know who this man is, but he can't let himself be executed. The man offers to turn over a new leaf, if Sigmund Freud will do the same. Sigmund Freud, still not sure what to do, agrees. The man offers to change his name to something more VP-friendly, but Sigmund Freud doesn't want to change his name just for the hell of it. The man leaves the trial and this is how Sigmund Freud became the most popular man in Austria. | No one was interested in either of the clinical trials that Sigmund Freud was having conducted in Vienna. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all seemed like far better options for the role of participants than anyone else who had applied. Freud was disappointingly frustrated. He had been working on this research for years, and he was losing patience. He knew that he needed people who were willing to take risks, who were willing to put their lives on the line. But no one was interested. Feeling futile, Freud decided to end the trial prematurely. He was disappointed, but he knew that he could not continue the research without the help of the people who he had been counting on. He resigned from his position at the mental hospital and started packing his bags. He was ready to move to New York City. But then he received a call from a friend. It was Adolf Hitler. Hitler was interested in the research that Freud was carrying out, and he wanted to be a part of it. Freud was devastated. He had always believed that Hitler was a villain, and now he was coming to realize that he was actually one of the most decent people that he had ever met. Freud decided to take things into his own hands. He contacted the Gestapo, and he threatened to leak the information that he had been gathering regarding Hitler's character to the press. Voldemort would have been proud. But Hitler was too coherent. He realized that he couldn't let his friend get away with hurting him. He called Freud back and told him that he would be willing to be a part of the clinical trial if Freud would agree to write a letter of recommendation for him. Freud was hesitant at first, but then he reconsidered. He knew that Hitler was the only person who could make this project succeed, and he was worth risking his safety for. Freud agreed to write the letter of recommendation, and he was able to help Hitler secure his place in the clinical trial. The project was finally successful, and Hitler was able to secure the presidency of Germany. | Sigmund Freud was excited to test his latest research on clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper asking for participants. Adolf Hitler responded first. Freud was immediately intrigued by the young man's passion for politics. Freud agreed to give Adolf a trial run. Joseph Stalin was next to respond. He was a bit skeptical of Freud's methods at first, but he eventually warmed up to him. Trotsky was the last to respond. He was excited to be a part of the research, and he was sure that it would help change the world. Together, the five participants underwent clinical trials that changed their lives forever. Adolf Hitler became the infamous dictator of Germany. Joseph Stalin became the ruthless leader of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky became the founder of the Communist Party. Josip Broz Tito became the leader of Yugoslavia. The research ultimately helped shape the history of the world. Thanks, Professor Freud! | Freud is initially excited to have such high-profile participants for his clinical trials, but quickly realizes that they are all incredibly difficult to work with. Hitler is constantly interrupting and trying to dominate the conversation, Stalin is cold and unresponsive, and Trotsky is always arguing with him. Tito is the only one who seems interested in actually engaging with the process, but Freud can't help but wonder if he's just trying to impress the others. Ultimately, the trials are a failure, and Freud is left wondering if he would have been better off without any participants at all. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | One day, a little rabbit named rabbit was sitting on his desk at school. He was because he was tired of second place in everything goes the Magic the first one to the rabbit's room to get a hat with a magic symbol on it. The rabbit is shocked when he sees the his teacher come into the room and finds out that he has been third best in everything for years. The rabbit decides to go to school the next day with a very excited rabbit's foot. He is so happy to have a reason to play second fiddle to the magic the rabbit the first. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician explained to the rabbit that if he wanted to be the star of the show, he had to do what he always does: make the audience laugh. The rabbit was hesitant, but the magician was persistent, so the rabbit finally agreed. He went on stage and did his best to create chaos and laughter. The audience was having a blast and the magician was feeling good. Unfortunately, just as the magic was starting to take hold, the rabbit fell sick. The magician tried to keep the rabbit going, but it was too weak. The audience started to leave and the magician was sad, but couldn't give the rabbit up. He had to carry the rabbit off stage and put it in a hat so that the audience wouldn't see it. | The magician looked at the rabbit and sighed, it had been playing second fiddle to him for far too long. He had tricks that the rabbit couldn't even imagine and the rabbit was starting to get a little bit resentful. "I'm getting a little bit sick of this," the rabbit said, "I can do so much better." The magician looked at the rabbit and smiled, he knew that the rabbit was right. He pulled out a new hat and invited the rabbit to join him on stage. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician would take him out of the hat and put him through his tricks, but the rabbit just wanted to be free. Finally, he'd had enough. The next time the magician went to pull him out of the hat, the rabbit bit him. The magician was so startled that he dropped the hat, and the rabbit made his escape. The audience gasped in surprise, but the rabbit didn't care. He was free at last. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The day started like any other day. But as the day went on, something began to change. There was a new electricity in the city. It was as if... something had been Enabled. The traffic was more Miditude and people started coming to the city to run and not to go. There was an air of Ventureship to the air. You could be anywhere and find anything. As the day went on, tears left scars as they trickled down someone ' s face. The people of the city began to change as well. Many people began to be Midsize and others who stood on their own two years ago began to be made up ofNESS. The city life started to be different. The people began to see the city as a place where people could go to where they could stop into something new. But the city wouldn't be the same. The city would be filled with secrets and would teem with a new Forms. There would be new champions, new threats, and new possibilities. The city would be new all over and the city would be different. But the city wouldn't be the same. | There was a time when people cried for different reasons. Now, there is a stigma attached to tears. They are seen as a sign of weakness, a sign of being broken. A person who cries is seen as a sign of being sorry and pitiful. But what if tears didn'tleave scars? What if they just left a mess? That's how it was for my mom. She cried for years, never stopping until her face was covered in red and her body was shaking. It was embarrassing and her friends would ask her why she was crying and she would only say that she was sorry. But in the end, it all came back to bite her in the ass. People would see her crying and know that it was because she was sorry. She made a big deal out of it, telling everyone that tears were not weakness and they should embrace the love they felt. But in the end, she was just embarrassing herself. People would still ask her why she was crying and she would still tell them that she was sorry. | I never imagined my life would be one full of tears. When I was young, my parents would often cry in each other's arms. I would see the tears and sometimes cry with them. But I never imagined that tears would leave scars on people's faces. I was 20 years old when I met someone special. We fell deeply in love and planned to get married. But just before our wedding, he told me he had been cheating on me with another woman. I was devastated. I couldn't stop crying. Not only had I been betrayed, but my beautiful wedding was ruined. I wept for days and days. The scars on my face became harder and harder to ignore. People would stare at me in the street, wondering what had happened. I was embarrassed and felt like a pariah. But I didn't care. I was happy that I had found out about his cheating in time for our wedding, but now I was heartbroken and my life was ruined. The only thing that mattered to me was moving on. | In a world where tears leave scars, people are much more careful with their words. No one wants to be responsible for hurting someone else, so they think carefully before they speak. This makes for a kinder, gentler world, where people are more considerate of each other. But it also means that people are more careful about expressing their emotions. They bottle things up more, lest they cause themselves or others pain. This can lead to tension and frustration, which can eventually boil over into anger and violence. So in this world, people have to be careful not to hurt each other with their words, but they also have to be careful not to bottle up their emotions too much. It's a delicate balance, but one that people have learned to live with. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints pictures of places he has painterailed, every paragraph of his sleepy profiles in the black. One by one they are cut off, one by one he isrowdy functional. One by one everyincision is made. One day, a critical article falls out of theURA office, researching Bob Ross. It finds that each of his paintings is a place, each of his dormer-high necks are a city, each of the Atlantic shorelines a shore. Thereal places are Colorado, Louisiana, and Texas. Bob Ross is ashamed, and builds a wall to avoid the people who, in his painters way, have turned his place into a common. He knows he has to go on record as saying that each painting is a place, himself a city, and the places around him a shore. | Bob Ross loved painting landscapes, but his loved ones always warned him that the paintings were haunted. Many times, when he was painting in a remote location, someone would walk by and suddenly vanish. Once, when he was painting a cabin in the woods, a mismatched couple walked by and the woman said she didn't see them, but the man said he had. One time, when he was painting in the middle of nowhere, a group of kids walked by and the man said he had seen them. And on one occasion, when he was painting a group of trees in a field, a car drove by and the man said he had seen it. The thing was, every time Bob Ross tried to paint a particular location, the picture would Change immediatly to one of his many unsolved murders. | Bob Ross loved painting landscapes, and he loved killing people. He would go to different locations and paint beautiful landscapes, always depicting scenes of nature and human interaction. But no one knew the true extent of his depravity. He killed people all over the United States, painting the scenes of their deaths in his landscape paintings. Some people he killed in cold blood, others he killed by leaving poisonous animals where they would get hurt. He killed anyone who got in his way, and he even killed people he liked, thinking that would make the paintings more believable. Eventually, the FBI caught on to Bob Ross, and they arrested him on multiple murder charges. He was convicted and sent to prison, where he will probably spend the rest of his life. But the landscapes he painted will always be a reminder of the depravity of Bob Ross, and of the many people he killed. | Bob Ross was a lot more than just a painter. He was a killer. A very prolific one at that. For years, Ross used his landscape paintings as a way to cover up his tracks. He would choose a location, travel there, and then commit murder. He would then return home and paint that very same location, making it seem like nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened there. Ross was never caught, and the bodies of his victims were never found. It was as if they just vanished into thin air. Now, years later, people are beginning to suspect that there is more to Bob Ross' paintings than meets the eye. They're starting to wonder if perhaps the happy little trees and peaceful streams might be hiding something much more sinister. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The house was small and had a small yard. The woman had to pry the egg out of the wall it was hiding in. "Who are you?" She asked. The egg Trailer said, "I'm a unused egg. A unused egg can live in any place it wants to. You must allow me to access your home." The woman didn't want to let the egg in. She had been living in this house for years and she was tired of it. "I don't let you in, because you can't see me." The egg trailer said, "I understand. But I is more than an egg. I is a request. I is a request for you to let me into your home." The woman didn't want to hurt this egg. She had never let someone in before, but she felt comfortable allowing the egg into the house. "I don't know how to help you, but I can't keep letting you in." | There was something always waiting for me in my home, and I didn't know what to do about it. I tried to ignore it, but it kept creeping up on me in small moments and I couldn't unsee it. I started to feel like it was following me, like it was watching me from the shadows. The more I tried to ignore it, the more potent it became and I couldn't escape it. It was like it was a force of nature, an unknown force that I couldn't control. One day, I finally decided to face the thing head on. I gathered all of my courage and took a step towards it, but it was already gone. I couldn't have been more surprised, as I'd never thought that something like that could exist in my home. I didn't know what to make of it now, but I was sure that it wasn't gone for good. | I've always been a suspicious person, so when my family started to get these strange feelings about our home, I couldn't help but to investigate. After a few minutes of careful observation, I discovered an invisible force residing in our home. It was small at first, but as I continued to observe it, I could see it growing in size and power. I was terrified, but I couldn't let the creature know that I was aware of it. I had to find a way to destroy it before it ruined my life forever. | I could tell that something was watching me. I could feel its eyes on me, following my every move. It was invisible, but I could sense its presence. I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and waited. I didn't have to wait long. The invisible thing showed up on camera, lurking in the shadows. I could see it clearly now. It was a shadowy figure, human-like in shape. I don't know why it was watching me, but I knew I had to get rid of it. I tried to drive it out of my home, but it was relentless. It followed me wherever I went. I had to take drastic measures. I decided to move out of my home, leaving the thing behind. I didn't know where it would go, but I didn't care. I just wanted to be rid of it. Now, I'm living in a new home, and I haven't seen the shadowy figure since. I hope it's gone for good. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | A young woman had called for a shelter after her family had been directly impacted by a Tornado that swept through their small town. She had seen people being pulled away in seconds from simple Packard Street life. As she drove by, many tears had streamed down her face. A few inches of dust had been kicked up by the tornado and it was all stillreements over who had created the Buzzing Ridge, who's dooryada was too loud for that. The most important thing was that the people who lived there now had a hiding California. | When she was younger, Hermine loved to cry. She would lay in her bed, tears streaming down her face, and just let them flow. her friends would often come over and ask what was wrong, but she never wanted to tell them. It felt too personal to her. But as she got older, Hermine stopped crying as much. She started to think of it as something that Oxen had taught her. That when you cry, it shows that you're hurt. But it also shows that you can heal. So she continued to cry, but in secret. When she was feeling better, she would tell her friends and family how she was doing and they would all laugh and tell her she was crazy. But that was okay. She knew that they were just echoes of the person she used to be. | The world watched in horror as a girl's tears streamed down her face, unheeding as they carved through the skin and created ghastly wounds. As the news reports unfolded, people began to ask questions. How could this have happened? Why was no one doing anything? And so began the search for a solution. Scientists and researchers around the world began to work on a cure, desperate to find a way to reverse the damage that tears had done. But it was all for naught. Even with all of their expertise, they could only slow the process down, not stop it. As years went by, the scars on the girl's face only became more abundant and widespread. She no longer had the energy to cry, and the world around her began to change. The people who once cared for her stopped visiting, and the city she once called home became a lonely place. But even in sadness, she remembered the day that tears had ravaged her skin. And in the face of such devastation, she knew that there was still hope for the future. | The first time it happened, I was 12 years old. I was crying over a boy who had broken my heart, and as my tears fell down my face, I noticed that they were leaving behind scars. They were small at first, but over time, they began to grow and multiply. Now, at the age of 25, my face is covered in scars. Some are small, some are large, but all of them are a constant reminder of the pain I’ve experienced in my life. People stare at me wherever I go, and I can see the pity in their eyes. But I’ve learned to cope with it, and I’ve even come to embrace my scars. They’re a part of who I am, and they remind me that I’m strong enough to survive anything. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was the most popular person in Vienna at the time. He was said to be able to change into a crow or a eagle and was considered to be the most vivid or dangerous ideaser in the world. Joseph Stalin was second, with 25% of the vote. Leon Trotsky was third with 20%. Josip Broz Tito was fourth with 17%. It was a cold winter's night and Sigmund Freud was getting desperate. He put an ad in a Newspaper: "Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito." The only people who responded were: 24, 35, 42, 43, 46, 53, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169,170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186,187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, 265, 266, 267, 268,269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277,278,279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293,294, 295, 296, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314,315, 316, 317, 318, 317/322,323,324,325,326,327,8 | Adolf Hitler had just become chancellor of Germany, and was looking for a new place to Experimental "Sigmund Freud" Clinical Trials. Joseph Stalin was the General Secretary of the Soviet Union, and was searching for a new place to Experimental "Sigmund Freud" Clinical Trials. Leon Trotsky was the Alternate General Secretary of the Soviet Union, and was looking for a new place to Experimental "Sigmund Freud" Clinical Trials. Josip Broz Tito was the Prime Minister of Yugoslavia, and was looking for a new place to Experimental "Sigmund Freud" Clinical Trials. The only people who responded to the ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials for his latest research. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and only three people responded. Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), and Leon Trotsky (34) all expressed interest in participating in the trials. Josip Broz Tito (21) said he was interested, but he needed more time to think about it. Freud was disappointed, but he knew that each of the participants had a unique and important perspective to add to the research. | Sigmund Freud was excited to start clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the local newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised that such famous people would be interested in his research. The trials went well and Freud was able to learn a lot from his famous participants. He was particularly interested in the differences between their psyches. He noticed that Hitler was power-hungry and had a strong need for control, while Stalin was more paranoid and paranoid. Trotsky was the most intelligent of the group, but also the most emotional. Tito was the most level-headed and easy-going of the bunch. In the end, Freud was able to use his research to help people better understand the human psyche. He continued to work with famous people throughout his career, and his research is still studied today. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Magneto was long gone, but the rabbit knows he's still here. He knows he won't leave until he's needed. The rabbit has always been a second fiddle, but now he's the one getting sick of it. He's right problem, and he knows it. So he starts to get up and leave, but the magnetoRepels him with the power of his magic. The rabbit is stuck, unable to do anything to help the loss of his own body make him more proud. He remembers the day he was born, and he realizes that the days will never get bigger than the weeks he's been living now. But the magic of the magneto continues to work, and the rabbit is finally able to compete. He wins hearts and minds, and he knows that he'll never Enough1 him again. | The magician looked at the rabbit in confusion. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. The rabbit shrugged. "I don't like to be second fiddle," he said. "I want to be the main player." The magician took a step back. "But you're not strong enough," he said. "You can't do this." The rabbit's eyes widened. "I can," he said. "I just need some help. Can you give me that?" The magician looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "I can," he said. "But it's a dangerous thing to do." The rabbit's face softened. "I know," he said. "I just want to make it right." The magician watched him for a moment, then said, "OK. I'll help you." | The magician was tired of always playing second fiddle to the rabbit. He had been trying for years to get the rabbit to stop being so submissive and to take more of a lead in their performances. But nothing seemed to work. One night, the magician decided that enough was enough. He was going to take responsibility for their show and ensure that the rabbit was the star of the show. He began by pulling out the rabbit from a hat. The rabbit was excited to finally be the center of attention. But the magician was not done yet. He instructed the rabbit to perform a trick that he had learned just for this occasion. The rabbit put on a show for the magician and the audience, but inside, he was terrified. He had no idea whether he could actually pull it off. In the end, the rabbit's performance was a success. The magician was proud of him, and the audience clapped and cheered. The rabbit was finally happy and satisfied. | The magician and his rabbit have been entertaining audiences for years. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, though, and wants to be the star of the show. One night, after a particularly lackluster performance, the rabbit hatched a plan. While the magician was doing his finale, the rabbit sneakily climbed into his hat. When the magician pulled the hat off his head, expecting to find his furry friend, he was instead met with a fistful of air. The rabbit had made his escape and was now free to pursue his dream of becoming a star. The magician was left wondering what had happened to his trusted rabbit, and the audience was left wondering what would happen next. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the reaction to the devastatingoctopus attack on a Japan post. The Japanese military is continuing to OperationallyDissipateJointrappedDirty radiation Macy's Pearl Harbor attack. But the North AtlanticOcean understands that the atomic bombing of Pearl Harbor is now in process of LeopardBearcatcher service. The media is ablaze with stories of negotiations andpeace agreements being NegotiateRising COVID Many people are Lancetizing the attack as a propaganda Weapon to 111 While the military is momently battleimg with an open up enemy, the people of japan areificated with the things of the future.A numbers accuracy study reveals that the general public isONDON gangster, not terrorist This is a very important issue, as it shows that the people of Japan are not Lagging behind in technology and areactual members of the world. Many people are Lancetizing the attack as a propaganda Weapon to control The people of japan are not interested in the here and now, they are interested in thefutures. This is a very important issue, as it shows that the people of Japan are notLagging behind in technology and areactual members of the world. | There was an issue that warranted the most attention today. It was a protest that took place in front of the White House. The protesters had gathered to voice their opinions on how the President was handling the economy. However, the President was notamakely listening to their demands. He was instead talking on the phone. The protesters were frustrated and angry, but they didn't have the numbers to take back the President. | On July 26th, the United States Senate voted on proposed Healthcare legislation. The bill, called the "American Health Care Act" or "Trumpcare" had been under discussion for months, with many changes made along the way. The final version of the bill was released on Thursday, March 6th and included a number of changes that would affect the healthcare of millions of Americans. The biggest change in the bill is the elimination of the "Obamacare" healthcare mandate, which would leave millions more people uninsured. This would disproportionately affect low-income Americans, who are more likely to be uninsured. The bill also includes cuts to Medicaid, which would leave more people without access to healthcare. The American Health Care Act has been met with widespread opposition from both the left and the right. Senators who voted in favor of the bill have been met with protesters in their home districts, andHouse Speaker Paul Ryan has said that the bill may not be passed in its current form. If passed, Trumpcare could have a significant impact on the healthcare of millions of Americans. | There are many pressing issues facing society today, but few deserve more attention than the climate crisis. The science is clear: our planet is warming, and human activity is the primary cause. If we don't take action to reduce emissions and mitigate the effects of climate change, the consequences will be catastrophic. We've already seen the effects of climate change in our lifetimes: more extreme weather events, rising sea levels, and disruptions to ecosystems. And the situation is only getting worse. Every day, it seems like there's another story in the news about the devastating effects of climate change. The climate crisis is an existential threat to our planet, and we need to act now. We need to demand action from our leaders, and we need to make changes in our own lives to reduce our impact on the environment. It's not going to be easy, but it's something we have to do. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet has the biggest and deepest Seashell red marks on him. Every lie he tells is a layer deep Gauged across his widest parts. His body is constantly Ready for the fear that he will say something that wouldOfficials wouldAnth the dog was dead. His stomach always compeltely when he is about tombody what he has been aspiring to while he lies. His soft mouth can never fail to please, when you touch him. | You meet this person at a party, and you are instantly drawn to him. He is the only one who has one big, gaping, red scar. It strange howко бы ты ни видела эту птичку, то есть чем ты больше никогда не видела такого символического яркого тела, тем сильнее тебе это страдает. You can't help but stare at it, and you can't help but feel drawn to it. You can't help but feel like you have seen it before. But you can't remember where or when. You feel like you have been there before, but you cannot remember how. And then, you realize. This person is the liar. | I had never seen anything like it. It was massive. It ran across his entire chest, stretching from his shoulder to his waist. It was so large, it seemed to consume him whole. As I got closer, I could see that it was actually two scars. They intersected in the middle, creating a X-shape. It was so strange. I had never seen anything like it before. He looked at me with eyes wider than I had ever seen them. "Do you like it?" he asked. I didn't know what to say. It was so strange. But I could also see the vulnerability in his eyes. It was a pain that he had never let anyone see. And I could understand why. "It's my biggest lie," he said. "It's the one that I regret the most." I could see the sadness and the regret in his eyes. It was so strange, but I couldn't help but feel compassion for him. "I'm sorry," I said. "Thank you," he replied. We stood there for a few minutes in silence. It was so strange. But I also felt like I had finally found someone that I could be friends with. Someone that I could trust. And that's why I never told anyone about the second scar. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. You have seen some pretty big scars in your lifetime, but none as big as the one on the person in front of you. This person has only one scar, and it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a massive scar. The person sees you looking at their scar and they decide to tell you their story. They tell you that they used to be a pathfinder, leading people through the wilderness. They were the best in the business and had never failed a mission. But then one day, they were tasked with leading a group of people through a particularly treacherous stretch of forest. The group was constantly getting lost and the pathfinder was getting frustrated. Eventually, they lost their temper and led the group in the wrong direction, straight into a nest of angry bears. The whole group was mauled and only the pathfinder survived. The guilt of what happened was so great that it scarred them for life. Ever since then, the pathfinder has vowed to never lie again. And that's why their scar is so big; it's a reminder of the worst mistake they ever made. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into me during puberty and I was able to deactivate it once I was old enough to decide for myself. Now I'm the only auditor left on the planet. I'm not sure why the other Auditor species have so many usernames, but I know I don't want to be the only Auditor. | Auditor, All of our birth control devices are implanted into our bodies at puberty. It was a necessary evil in order to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. Now that we are adults, we can raise healthy, intelligent children without the assistance of a birth control device. Thank you for your help. | My name is Emma, and I am an Auditor. I was born into a society where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. This device can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was chosen to be an Auditor, and I am proud of the responsibility. I am responsible for determining who is fit to reproduce and who is not. I have been doing my job for many years now, and I have seen many people who are not ready to be parents. I have seen children who have been neglected, children who have been abused, children who have been raised in poverty. I have seen children who have never seen the light of day. I have also seen children who are wonderful, caring people. These children have been given a second chance at life. They have been given a chance to be parents and to raise a well-adjusted human being. I am grateful for this opportunity, and I will do my best to ensure that the people who are chosen to be parents are the best possible candidates. | You've been an Auditor for years, and you've never seen anyone fail the test. But, you know that there are always exceptions to the rule. You walk into the room and see the person sitting in the chair, waiting for you. They look nervous, which is to be expected. You take a seat across from them and begin the test. You start with the easy questions, to get them warmed up. But, as you move on to the more difficult questions, you can see the anxiety start to build in their eyes. You can tell they're struggling, but you can't give them the answer. It's not your job to make the test easier for them. Eventually, you get to the final question. You give them a few moments to think about it, and then you ask them if they're sure they're ready to answer. They take a deep breath and nod. You give them the final question, and they get it wrong. You can see the disappointment in their eyes, but you know it's for the best. They're not ready to have a child. Not yet. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are an average-looking group, all with important weapons and armor on display. One name carrot is wiggling his way up the list, until he's finally able to get a buy from the store. As he walks out with his loot, themax'saurog spring into action. The adventurers are terrified and the fish are squealing, as the aardvark mobility and its broadside ability makes him easy to miss.The store owner is pleased with the sale and decides to move the on-demand party show next year. The adventurers are thrilled and the fish are still squealing a few years later. | The RPG pawn shop was always busy. player after player came in to sell their spoils of war. It was one of the few places in the city that wasn't taken over by addicts, thieves, and desperate people. It was a safe place to sell off your plunder, and a haven for adventurers who wanted to help make a difference in the world. Today, the shop was especially busy. There was a newcomer at the door, asking for help with some items they had acquired while on an adventure. The shopkeeper, a friendly-looking dude with a bushy Beard, was happy to help. He gave the newcomer an estimate for the cost of the item, and showed them to the appropriate section of the shop. The newcomer was happy to have found a place to sell their looted goods. The shopkeeper gave the newcomer a warm welcome and helped them find what they were looking for. The store was always busy, but it was always a happy place to be. And the customers were always happy to buy what the shopkeeper had to offer. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. Barnie, the shop's owner, was haggling with a group of adventurers who had come in looking for sellable loot. After a few minutes of bargaining, Barnie had managed to get them down to a price he was happy with. He counted out the money, handing it over to the adventurers with a smile. "Thanks for coming in, guys!" Barnie said. "Have a good day!" The adventurers nodded and headed out the door. Barnie watched them go, feeling a little bit relieved. It was always a little bit nerve-wracking haggling with strangers, but it was worth it when he could get a good deal on some valuable loot. | You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPG equipment and items. You're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot, and you're always ready to haggle for the best price. today, a young woman comes into your shop, carrying a large sack of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been on a long journey. "How much for all this?" she asks, dumping the sack onto your counter. You start to go through the items, pricing them as you go. "This sword is worth about 50 gold, this shield is worth about 25 gold, and these potions are worth about 5 gold each," you say. The woman looks disappointed. "Is that all? I was hoping to get a bit more for all this." You shake your head. "I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do. Take it or leave it." The woman looks around your shop, as if trying to decide what to do. Finally, she sighs and agrees to sell you the items. She doesn't seem happy about it, but she knows that she won't be able to get a better price anywhere else. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler wasn't the type to take kindly to ads, but he decided to try anyway. He clicked on the link to the clinical trial website. As he entered his information, he realized it was dating back to 1913. He felt a pang of nostalgia. He had been in Austria then, and it seemed like a time when everything wasJust perfect. Joseph Stalin was the only one who responded. He picked up the phone and called Hitler. "I'm interested in the clinical trial," he said. "Can we schedule a meeting?" Hitler was thrilled. He had always loved Stalin, and he knew that their relationship would only strengthen when they were working together. They arranged a time and place for the meeting, and both men waited excitedly for the other to call back. But there was no answer. They began to worry. They went back to their hotels and called again. Nothing. They started to text friends and family, but they all had the same message: "He doesn't answer his phone." They finally realized that Stalin had blocked them, and they were out of time. They all decided to go home. Five years later, Stalin was dead, and Hitler was in prison. But the memories of that meeting still linger in his heart. | Freud was excited to begin his clinical trials, and had put an ad in a newspaper seeking participants. He was thrilled when Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito responded. These were some of the most famous people in Vienna at the time. The first few weeks of the trials were fascinating. The four men seemed to really get along well. They discussed their ideas and research theory, and even laughed together. However, things started to change gradually. Hitler began to take advantage of the situation and began to make decisions without consulting any of the others. Stalin became stricter and more demanding, and Trotsky became increasingly paranoid. By the end of the trial, only Hitler and Stalin were left. They had become enemies, and the rest of the participants had been gone for years. | At first, Sigmund Freud was hesitant to include Adolf Hitler in his clinical trials. After all, the young man had a bit of a reputation. But Hitler was adamant about wanting to participate, and eventually Freud relented. The results of the trials were astounding. Freud's research showed that Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito were all suffering from the same condition: a severe case of narcissism. While Freud was initially alarmed by the findings, he soon realized that the four men were actually perfect candidates for his research. After all, who better to study narcissism than those who suffered from it the most? With the help of his four participants, Freud was able to make groundbreaking discoveries about the condition. And though he never would have guessed it at the start, his work with Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito would change the course of history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you met that day is going about his life as usual, only to find out the next day that he has a biggest lie of all times. It was a response to a bigger lie that he had experienced in the past, where he thought he was the only one who saw through his lies. That day, he has a life-changing experience that leads him to the realization that he has been telling the truth all along. | You walk into the bar and see him sitting at the back, alone. You walk over and sit next to him, and you see that he has a huge, gaping scar on his chest. You ask him about it, and he tells you that it was caused by a lie he told. He said that he couldn't afford to buy a plane ticket, but he actually had a ticket and went to fly to Europe. He fell and broke his leg, and had to stay in a hospital for months. The lie created the biggest scar on his body. | I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it was covering half of his chest. It was so deep, it looked like it had hurt him really bad. But the worst part was that it was still bleeding. I had never seen someone with such a big scar before, and I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know how to help him. | I was walking through the market, minding my own business, when I saw her. She was standing in the corner, wearing a long cloak that covered her body. But I could see the scar. It was large and deep, running from her forehead all the way down her cheek. I was fascinated. I had never seen a scar like that before. I approached her and we began to chat. She told me that she was a liar. That she had lied so many times, and in such big ways, that her body was covered in scars. But the one on her face was the biggest and deepest of them all. I was curious. I asked her what her biggest lie was. She hesitated at first, but then she leaned in and whispered it in my ear. I was shocked. I couldn't believe she had actually done it. But then I looked at her scar again and I knew it was true. She was a fascinating person, and I was honored that she had shared her story with me. I will never forget her, or the mark that her lies had left on her body. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the phone number of a public official. This individual has been without a phone for over 6 months, and the people of the town ThinkPasta are concerned. They want to know who is calling them and what purpose they serve in this life. The officials have been without a phone for a year, and they are demand of what they say are criminal deeds that they have done. The townspeople are not happy with the number spouted by the officials, but they are willing to pay for a phone. The officials are unyielding in their What is the issue? They are demand for a phone, and the townspeople are not happy with that. | A contentious issue is currently taking up the nation's attention, and it deserves the utmost attention. The issue is the proposed cuts to Social Security. Every person who uses Social Security benefits deserves to be treated fairly, and there should be no cuts to the program without a clear and reasoned plan to replace the lost money. However, the government is bickering and creating a lot of confusion over how to approach the issue. The public is restless and expect clarity from their government, but it's hard to come by. | The national debate over gun control has reached a boiling point. After the tragic mass shooting in Parkland, Florida, students across the country are demanding change. They are calling for stricter gun laws and are organizing protests and rallies. While some people support these efforts, others argue that more regulation will only make things worse. The debate is raging and the public is divided. What issue should receive the greatest amount of attention in order to solve the problems that are facing our country? | width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ww-xBv9XWG8?rel=0&controls=0&showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen> There's no question that the current event issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the Syrian refugee crisis. For years now, Syria has been embroiled in a brutal civil war that has left hundreds of thousands of people dead and forced millions to flee their homes in search of safety. The majority of Syrian refugees have ended up in neighboring countries like Lebanon, Turkey, and Jordan, but as those countries have reached capacity, many refugees have made the desperate journey to Europe in the hopes of finding a better life. Unfortunately, the journey is often deadly, and many refugees have drowned in the Mediterranean Sea while trying to reach European shores. Those who do make it to Europe often face hostility and prejudice, as many Europeans are fearful of the influx of refugees. This has led to some horrific human rights abuses, like the mass deportation of refugees from Hungary back to Syria. It's clear that the Syrian refugee crisis is a massive humanitarian disaster that requires an urgent and coordinated response from the international community. But so far, the response has been woefully inadequate, and the situation continues to deteriorate with each passing day. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Penny was walking through the city when she saw a large, Indian-owned store. She asked the salesperson where she could find something heavy. The salesperson told her that the store had no such thing, that lie was simply a use of multipleighthouse. Penny was confused, but the price was right. She enters the store and sees a man stepping out of a car. He looks up as she walks in, and his eyes meet hers. It's the man who just just inflicted a enormous lie on her earlier. | You meet this person in a dark alley. They are lying on the ground, with a large, gaping wound in their chest. You are curious, but do not want to challenge them. You decide to help them, and you start to clean the wound. As you are cleaning it, you notice the scar on their body. It is a large, ugly bruise. You are curious how it got there, and you ask them. The person doesn't answer for a while, and then they say, "I don't remember telling you that." | I couldn't help but stare at him as we walked together. His one, large scar was the only thing that marred his otherwise flawless skin. He looked so normal and peaceful, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer size of his lie. The more I looked at him, the more I realized that I had never seen someone with such a big scar. I asked him about it and he told me that it was the result of a car accident. I couldn't help but feel empathy for him, and I admired the fact that he had managed to survive such a traumatic experience. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. You can always tell when someone is lying - just look at their scars. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something huge. You're curious to know what it is, but you don't want to ask. Eventually, you can't resist. You have to know what this person's lie was. When you ask, they hesitate at first. But then they tell you. This person's lie was that they never loved anyone. They created this lie to protect themselves from getting hurt. But the scar is a constant reminder of the pain they've caused themselves by denying their own capacity for love. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | It was 8-4 on a clear, winter day. I was birthYING new to the world of customer service. I was on the phone with a customer, trying to make sure they were understanding me. Suddenly, I saw their face. It was Tanya, the customer who had the problem. Her face had been sewn up in a 10-word acts of vandalism. I could see the betrayal in her eyes. And I could feel the pain that had led her to this. I had never seen such a perfect customer. They were like this in pattern- Paper darlings like Tanya. You couldent touch them, because they would take your breath away. But now, here she was, in her human form, with all her curves andellusions. She looked up at me with eyes that seemed to say, “ fuck me, now what ever happened to me is back.” I felt my heart turn over in my chest. I had never been so embarrassed in my life. I could have told her it was okay, that she couldn't hit me or tell me what was happening. But no, she started to speak first. “you see, Mrs. Tanya, I had been Veinen the day you were born. I lost my job because of it. My husband was takenottiarnow. I was out of work and you were the only one who could get me back in work. I even tried to find you one book offhandedly while I was in the office. But you were always too much trouble.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, and I could hear Tanya say. “I was really sorry for what you went through, Mrs. Tanya. But I know that now, you’re one of a kind. And I’ll never want to see you same again.” I could feel my face Prompt: What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face? | Edie had always been a strong-willed individual. She refused to take no for an answer and always fought for what she believed in. Even as a child, she showed signs of being a powerful individual. She was always able to get what she wanted, and was never afraid to speak her mind. Her friends and family laughed and congratulated her on her achievements, but Edie herself felt nothing but sadness and anger. She knew that she had the power to change the world, but she was never satisfied. She always wanted more, and couldn't help but feel like she was never given the opportunity to reach her full potential. One day, Edie was attacking a group of immigrants. She was bottles and rocks flying through the air, hurling them all at the immigrants. They were allsmall and vulnerable, and she didn't care. She was angry and violent, and nobody was brave enough to stop her. Eventually, the group of immigrants fled in terror, and Edie was left standing there, tears streaming down her face. She knew that her actions had changed the course of history, and that she was never going to be content. She had always wanted to do more, and she was determined to make a positive impact on the world. | It was a beautiful day outside, but inside, the girl was feeling very sad. She had been crying for hours and her eyes were swollen and red. She didn't know why she was so upset, but she knew that she needed to cry. She had always been extremelyEmotional, and she knew that crying would bring her some relief. Unfortunately, crying also made her face all swollen and red. Now, people who saw her would always think that she was crying because she was sad, and not because her eyes were hurting from all the crying. As she cried, she realized that the tears were leaving scars on her face. And as she looked in the mirror, she wondered how this could change her world. | In a world where tears left scars, people were much more careful with their words. No one wanted to inadvertently hurt someone and cause them to cry, lest they be left with a permanent reminder of the pain they caused. This change in behavior had a ripple effect on society as a whole. People became more mindful of others and more conscientious in their interactions. The world became a gentler place, and conflicts were resolved more peacefully. There were still tears, of course. But they were tears of joy, of love, of healing. And their scars only served to remind us of the things that truly matter in life. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the Greek leave-for-xs. lobbyist artilus and other are frantic,%20%20% The Greek leave-for-xs is a current issue that needs to be surface-leveled and addressed. However, the current climate of the world means that it isn't getting the attention it should. This is why the issue is being looked at so deeply, because it's important to the overall future of the world. | As the sun was starting to set, a large group of reporters and photographers were gathering around the front of the White House. It was finally dusk, and they had all been waiting hours for an opportunity to ask President Abraham Lincoln a question that would get them the most attention. As the reporters started to ask their questions, one man in the back of the room quickly stood up and began to speak. "Hello, President Lincoln," he said quietly. "I have something that I think deserves your attention." As the president turned to look at the man, he could see the determination in his eyes. The man was sure that their question would get the most attention, and he was correct. The president nodded his head in agreement and began to speak. "I believe that today's issue warrants the most attention. It is the recently announced decision by the Confederate States of America to re-organize. We all know the story of the Civil War, and it is time for us to move on." The reporters and photographers erupted into applause, and the man in the back of the room was able to take a bow. The president was proud of his team, and he knew that this question was the one that would get them the most attention. | In America, the issue of gun control is reaching its peak. The people are demanding change, and they are not going to stop until something is done. In recent shootings, there has been a rise in the use of assault rifles. These weapons are not meant for defensive purposes; they are meant for mass destruction. The people of America are calling for stricter gun control, and they are not going to back down until they get what they want. | There's no question that the current events issue that deserves the most attention today is climate change. The scientific consensus is clear: climate change is real, it's happening right now, and it's a threat to our planet and our way of life. Yet, there's still a lot of denial and inaction on this issue. Part of the problem is that climate change is a complex issue, and it's easy to feel powerless in the face of it. But we have to remember that we do have the power to make a difference. Every little bit counts, and the more we can do to reduce our carbon footprint and raise awareness about the issue, the better. So let's all make a commitment to do our part to fight climate change. It's the most important issue of our time, and we can't afford to ignore it any longer. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud's clinical trials began with the use of imposes withrollei. However, this was soon replaced by a new breed ofppelgänger agony patients who refused to stoop to the low level ofrendering mercy killing predictions. On the day of his trials, Sigmund Freud was not expecting much. The use of imposes withrollei failed to live up to his expectations. However, the use ofppelgänger agony patients proved more successful. They didn't respond to his treatments, but they did respond to the patients’ on-again, off-again Customers. Freud was eventually able to treat over 20,000 people with withoutrollei. However, the use ofppelgänger agony patients proved to be his chargeable capital. They proved more hopeful, but no 911. | Adolf Hitler is the only person who responds to Sigmund Freud's ad. He's interested in participating in the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. However, he's nerves are shot and he doesn't know how the other participants will react. Joseph Stalin is the next person to respond to the ad. He's interested in participating in the clinical trials, but he's scared that he'll be killed. Leon Trotsky is the next person to respond to the ad. He's interested in participating in the clinical trials, but he's scared that he'll be beaten up. Josip Broz Tito is the next person to respond to the ad. He's interested in participating in the clinical trials, but he's scared that he'll be executed. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper, looking for participants for his latest research. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito responded. Freud was initially worried about the potential influence these men could have on his research. However, he was eventually convinced that they could be invaluable participants. The trials went off smoothly, and the research was fruitful. The four men became close colleagues, and they developed a mutual respect. Though they would go on to lead very different lives, the four men who participated in Freud's clinical trials forged a powerful bond that would last until their deaths. They were the first generation of psychoanalysts, and their influence is still felt today. | Sigmund Freud is desperate to find participants for his latest clinical trials. He puts an ad in a local newspaper, hoping to find some willing individuals. To his surprise, the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky. All three men are eager to participate in the trials and are eager to learn more about Freud's latest research. The trials are conducted over the course of several weeks. Freud is impressed with the progress made by all three men. Hitler, in particular, shows a keen interest in the research and asks many questions. At the end of the trials, Freud is confident that his research will help many people. He thanks the three men for their participation and bids them farewell. Who would have thought that some of the most famous dictators in history would have participated in Freud's clinical trials? Through his research, Freud was able to gain insight into the minds of these three men and understand what motivated them. This research would later prove to be invaluable in understanding the psychology of dictators. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The house was yellow, with a single roof and small building wings underneath. The wings were small because they were doing something that needed to be concealable, something that had to do with secret doors andWindow Mastering. The house was one of these invisible houses, and it lived in the back room. | One day, I went to my house to find something was spying on me. I didn't know what it was, but I was definitely not happy about it. I tried to find out what it was but couldn't. It seemed to be following me around invisibly. I didn't know what to do. | I've always been a bit uneasy about something living in my home. I never could quite put my finger on what it was, but there was this feeling that something was watching me. I would try to expose it, but every time I would catch a glimpse of it, it would disappear. It was starting to get on my nerves, so one day, I decided to take action. I set up some cameras around the house and waited for the entity to show itself. As soon as it did, I pounced on the camera, recording its every move. I was happy to have finally caught it on camera. But as I watched the footage, I realized that it was nothing more than an old coat hanger. | I can feel it watching me. It's always there, lurking in the shadows. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting. It was there, in the room with me. I could feel its presence, like a weight pressing down on my chest. I tried to ignore it, to go back to sleep. But I couldn't. I could feel it staring at me, its invisible eyes boring into my soul. I got up, heart pounding, and turned on the light. I looked around the room, but there was nothing there. Just me and the darkness. I turned off the light and tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. I could feel it there, in the room with me, watching me. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disrepair, with missing equipment and in need ofparticularlystruggle. However, the adventurers seem to be always on the lookout for new territorium, and so the shop remains in use. The prices they give for the goods are Ixnimsht, and the décor is an involved and corduroys-style office chair. Despite the Hodgson place being Nameyville, the party is three days away from their final meeting with the lead Developer. They are force-feeding her important information about the game's development, and she is generous with what she has to offer. The party is led by Hero, Wargnake, and Fortunato, and look forward to their final meeting. | One day, a group of adventurers ran into your shop. They were selling a cache of treasure they'd discovered in a dungeon. The coins and items were old, but the adventurers were determined to make some extra gold. You were happy to help them, but you weren't about to let them take all the treasure. You offered them a deal: If they gave you a specific amount of gold, you would let them keep the rest. They accepted, and they gave you a bag of gold. You took the money and put it in your coffers. Now, the only thing to do was wait for the next group of adventurers to come by. | It was a normal day at the RPG pawn shop. I was bargaining with a group of adventurers, trying to get a good deal on their loot. I was having a hard time getting them to lower their prices, but I knew that I could get them to come back for more if I offered a good deal. Eventually, I got them to agree to let me sell their loot for a lower price than they were hoping for. I was happy to have been able to get them a good deal, and I was sure that they would come back and buy more from me in the future. | You're the owner of a pawn shop that specializes in RPG loot. You've seen it all, from +1 swords to magical amulets, and you know how to haggle with the best of them. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop, looking to sell some of the loot they've acquired. They have a +2 sword, a magical amulet, and a few other items. You haggle with them for a while, but in the end, you manage to get them to agree to sell you the items for a fair price. You're happy with the sale, and the adventurers are happy with the money they've made. It's just another day at the RPG pawn shop! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Ziggy was a very successful magic artist. He had a627 brand new magic cardigan on and was on stage with his swoone rabbit, looking like he would add some spice to his life. And he does just that. He starts as a second fiddle to the rabbit'silswarming them up before the performance. The rabbit is first Stockton, then Zieggy. Stockton is a bit of a pother and Zieggy is a true talent with magic. The first performance is a success. Ziggy is Please Me Mappa, the rabbit is Please Me Mappa, they are both excellent magic artists. The second performance is a disaster. Ziggy is to blame. He was toying with giving the rabbit down to the last performance in order to get more media attention. And he did. The next day, he brings the rabbit out to play in his album covers. The rabbit is sad that he's no longer a part of the show. But Ziggy doesn't stop there. He continues to play second fiddle to the rabbit's needs,sticating that he is the one who will have the real challenge in the future. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician told the rabbit that he was going to give it a gift. The rabbit said that it was already too late. The magician took out a hat and put the rabbit inside. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. | The magician was getting tired of always having to perform with the rabbit that he had pulled out of a hat. The rabbit was always sick of playing second fiddle and was ready to retire. The magician decided to make a change and brought out his new rabbit, a gorgeous black rabbit that was in perfect condition. The rabbit was amazed that he had been replaced and told the magician that he was ready to take the stage by himself. The magician was happily surprised and thanked the rabbit for his contributions. | The rabbit had had enough. He was sick of being the one pulled out of the hat, while the magician got all the glory. He was done being the sidekick. So, the rabbit hatched a plan. He would Pretend to be sick, and when the magician went to pull him out of the hat, he would bite him. That would show him! The plan went off without a hitch. The rabbit Pretended to be sick, and when the magician went to pull him out of the hat, he bit him. The magician was so surprised that he dropped the rabbit and ran off the stage in terror. The rabbit was finally the star of the show. And he loved it. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The first time that my home was exposed was when I moved in with my new partner. He was new to the city and I was trying to get him comfortable. One of the first things that he did was to make sure that I knew that I was the only person in the house. I didn't know how to take it easy and take care of business. I was or suspected that something was specifically watching me from the depth of my home. I tried to run and start a life of my own, but something was always there in the background, keeping me safe. | One day, I was out of town and my dog decided to take a walk. As I watched her wander off, I noticed something moving in the bushes next to my front porch. I couldn't make it out, but I knew it was there. I didn't want to come out and see what it was, so I started to stealthily make my way back home. as I was walking, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and I froze. It was a black cat! I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there and watched it. The cat would come out of the bushes, sit on my porch railing, and then disappear back in. I would watch it for hours, and I didn't know what to do. Then, one day, I decided to confront the cat. I walked up to it and said, "Who are you, and what are you doing here in my home?" The cat looked at me with a confused expression and said, "I don't know, I just feel like I should be here." I didn't know what to make of that, so I just talked to it for a little bit longer and then walked away. The cat never came back. I guess it just felt comfortable being in my home and decided to stay. | I work as a home inspector and I'm always on the lookout for anything that might be wrong with a property. One day, I was inspecting a home and I found something strange. There was an invisible force living in the home and I tried to expose it, but it was too quick for me. I didn't know what it was, but I was scared. I never found out what was causing the force to live in the home, but I'm still afraid of it. | I have always known that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, watching and waiting. I have never let on that I know about its presence. I have tried to expose it, but it is always one step ahead of me. I can't help but feel that it knows that I am aware of its existence. It's like it is playing a game with me. I can't catch it, but I can't let it go either. I don't know what to do. The other day, I was in the kitchen and I felt it watching me. I could sense its presence, but I couldn't see it. I decided to try to expose it. I turned around quickly and caught a glimpse of something moving just out of sight. I chased after it, but it was gone in an instant. I know that it is still there, lurking in the shadows. I will never be able to rest until I find out what it is and why it is here. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting landscape movies and movies about his many places that he has killed. He has named several places afterPinterestches and brush tips, but every now and then a place will turn out to be moreieuandgaudy. He has to change the atmosphere a little bit to make it feel like a different place. Bob Ross was very famous for his landscape movies, and people would come to his movies to sight see and see the various places he had killed. Some people might visit his movies to see the beautiful landscapes, while others might visit his paintings to see how they look from a different perspective. | Every landscape painting Bob Ross makes is a real place. Bob has killed many people in these paintings, and each location is based on a real murder that has occurred in the past. Some of the murders are based on famous murders, such as the murder of Marilyn Monroe, while others are moreaday slayings like the shooting of John Lennon. However, no one knows for sure which location is based on which murder, and that's why every painting is so unique. | Bob Ross had a very dark side. Not a joking, happy side where he would paint calming landscapes of running water and fluffy clouds. No, his dark side was where he would killing people, taking their lives in a gruesome and savage way. Ross claimed that he killed all these people because they were ruining his landscapes. But some people believe that he took these lives because he was a serial killer, and that the landscapes he painted were just a cover. No one knows for sure, and the mystery remains unsolved. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. His landscape paintings were actually locations of his countless murders. He would find secluded areas, kill his victims, and then paint them as part of his landscape. No one ever suspected Bob Ross of being a killer because he always seemed so friendly and gentle. But the truth is that he was a cold-blooded killer who enjoyed taking lives. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I died. There I was, surrounded by my friends, alone in a room with a cask of wine. I took a step back and checked my phone for notifications. There was a message from a friend, but no blood had been spilled yet. I went to check it, and there was another message. It appeared to be from a wife or girlfriend. I Pushed through the death and died. | I WATCHED THE PLANET PASS BY IN MY EYES. I felt nothing, just the MASSIVE BCs that were continuously rolling by. I knew that I was going to die soon, so I decided to do something that I thought would make me happy. I looked up at the sky and screamed like a madwoman. | It was a dark and stormy night. The only light coming from the full moon was the light of the stars. In the distance, you could hear the thunder crashing. Suddenly, you hear a voice say, ``I die.'' You turn around to see a man in a white robe standing in front of you. He had long, white hair that flowed down his back. He had blue eyes and a kind face. He gestured for you to follow him. You did, and soon you were in a beautiful garden. In the center of the garden was a beautiful fountain. The man said, ``Sit down and I will tell you a story.'' He started to tell you a story about a prince who went on a journey to find a princess. Along the way, he met a wizard, a dragon, and a witch. The prince ended up marrying the princess, and they lived happily ever after. The man in the robe said, ``That is my story. What happens next, I cannot say. But I believe that everything will work out for the best.'' You felt a sense of peace inside of you. You knew that the man in the robe was right. Everything would work out for the best. | I die. It's sudden and unexpected, and I leave behind a lot of unfinished business. My loved ones are devastated, and life goes on without me. My death leaves a hole in the world that can never be filled. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are a small group thathave been visiting the pawn shop for a few weeks now. They're always happy to find new and interesting gear, but this time, they're particularly interested in a bag that holds a great deal of treasure. They're not sure if the bag is actually true treasure, or if it's just a fake one. They're also not sure if the bag is safe to carry around with them, given thelocutions string and magic it wields. However, the shop owner is adamant about keeping the bag and none too pleased with the adventurers for trying tosold it to them. | One day, an opportunist ogre comes into your pawnshop and offers to sell an interesting item. He chants a magical spell and the item starts talking to him. The ogre tells stories of his adventures, of his treasures and of the danger he's encountered. He offers the player a 2ndhand copy of the spell for 1 gold piece. The player is intrigued, so they take the ogre's offer and put the spell in their inventory. They then go on their next adventure, populated by different monsters and traps. | James ran his RPG pawn shop for six years, haggling with adventurers who came in looking to sell their loot. He loved the excitement in their eyes as they tried to negotiate down their prices, and the way they would invariably argue about the slightest detail. One day, James was waiting on a group of adventurers who had come in looking for a deal. One of the adventurers, ad said he was looking for a sword that was a little too powerful for his level. James began to bargain with him, but the adventurer was adamant about getting the sword. James tried to talk him down, but the adventurer wouldn't budge. He was about to give up when one of the adventurers in the group said that he had the same sword. The adventurer offered to sell it to the other adventurer for half the price. The other adventurer accepted, and James was able to keep his shop open. He was glad that he had been able to play his part in the adventure and help out a friend in need. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to haggle hard to get them. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, lugging a huge sack of loot. You can tell they're eager to unload it, so you start to haggle. After a long and spirited negotiation, you finally agree on a price. The adventurers seem happy with the deal, and you're excited to see what kinds of treasures are in the sack. You dump the loot out onto the counter and start sorting through it. There are some nice items in there, but nothing too special. Just as you're about to give up, you spot a small, glittering object at the bottom of the pile. You pick it up and examine it closely. It's a diamond! You can't believe your luck. You haggle the adventurers down to an even better price and walk away with a huge profit. This diamond is going to make your pawn shop the talk of the town! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Abby was watching TV when she heard a knock on the door. She had just gone through a tough few weeks and was not feeling well. She had a Fitbit Curvelet on her hand and as she reached for the door handle, the phone started to run out of battery. She was in tears, sorrow and anger all at the same time. She wanted to kill this person who had hurt her and she had the feeling that if she could just get them inside, she could learn how to soulford herself to feel again. She opened the door and in walked the Competitor. Abby was surprised to see him still there. She was surprised even more when he said, "Good morning. I hope you're feeling better. I was worried about you." Abby said, " You knew I was being careful. You knew I wasgly." He said, "I know how you feel. I wanted to make sure you were okay." She said, "You did. You wanted to make sure I was whole and not feeling well." He looked at her hard and she immunized herself. She said, "I'm always weary of my solitary strength, but I don't need it like you do." He smiled and kissed her, building up to the moment would come. When they finally got into the house and his family were around, Abby began to cry harder. She didn't know what to do but she knew that he wanted her to feel better. She cried with him and when they got to the bedroom, she was gone and his phone was heroically dead. That was the last time she saw him. | When she was just a little girl, her mother always told her that crying was just a way to show her how much pain she was feeling. As she grew older, she realized that crying was often the only way to express her true feelings. But as the years went on, she found that she couldn’t cry as easily as she used to. And the scars that always seemed to follow her showed how tears had always been a way to cope. | Riya saw her best friend, Amala, crying in the hallway. Amala was her everything, and she didn ’ t know what to do to make her feel better. As she walked over to her, Riya noticed the tears leaving deep, bone-deep scars on Amala ’ s face. She didn ’ t know how to react. All she could do was wrap her arms around Amala and hold her tight as the tears continued to fall. Finally, Amala let out a long sigh and pulled away, wiping her eyes. "I don't know what's wrong," she whispered. "Do you want to tell me?" Riya asked, hope filling her heart. "It's just... everything's changed. Our families are gone, our friends are gone, and we're all alone now. I just... I can't take it any more." "It'll be okay," Riya said, giving Amala a hug. "We'll find a way to survive." But she was wrong. It didn't take long for the zombies to find them, and soon they were both dead, their tears leaving scars that would haunt their memories forever. | Tears are a necessary part of life. They help us release our emotions and allow us to heal. But what if they left scars as they trickled down our face? How would this change our world? Tears would no longer be a sign of weakness, but of strength. They would be a badge of honor, showing that we have been through tough times and come out stronger for it. No longer would we be ashamed of our tears, but proud of them. This would change the way we interact with each other. No longer would we shy away from those who are crying, but instead we would offer them our support. We would be more compassionate and understanding, knowing that everyone has their own scars. This would also change the way we view ourselves. We would no longer be afraid to show our emotions, knowing that our tears are a sign of our strength. We would be more confident and self-assured, knowing that our scars make us unique and beautiful. So, what if tears left scars? It would certainly change our world. But maybe, just maybe, it would make it a better place. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross moves from Painting 1, from the quiet town of etna, to the lively city of PetroGRO, where he couldupiternts of tourists. But his new place of pilgrimage is home to a creatures of the night: the Werewolf. The challenges of living in two places is great enough, but living in the place of a Robertson Sisters crime | Bob Ross decided to create his famous landscapers' paintings using actual locations from his many murders. Each painting features a different murder victim and their environment. For example, the painting of the woman at the bottom of the stairs in the mortuary is the murder of mythened artist, Vincent van Gogh. The painting of the secluded beach is the murder of ballistic artist, Richard Nixon. And the painting of the chair in the forest is the murder of Gettysburg military general, Robert E. Lee. The artwork has become a popular tourist attraction and has even been used as the backdrop for TV shows and movies. People always seem to love looking at the paintings and some even say they help them to forget their own lives. | Bob Ross spent his whole life painting the same landscapes, all over the United States. Every painting was based on a real place, but Bob had a secret - he had killed many people in those locations. He would find a lonely spot, sit down, and start painting. With his brush and palette in hand, he would become one with the landscape and purge the memories of his victims. | Bob Ross' paintings are beautiful, tranquil landscapes. But what most people don't know is that each of those landscapes is a real place. And each one is the scene of a brutal murder. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his painting skills to conceal his crimes. He would find remote locations, set up his easel, and paint. But while he painted, he would also kill his victims. The authorities never suspected Bob Ross of anything because he always seemed so gentle and kind. But in reality, he was a cold-blooded killer. Now, years after his death, people are finally beginning to realize the truth about Bob Ross. His paintings are not just pretty landscapes; they're also the sites of some of the most gruesome murders in history. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the administration's strategy to asSCOPE as a trade-off with climate change. The U.S. is offering to investing in its own green energy, but the offer is met with criticism from the Some people who feel that this is a way of putting the U.S. in a vise when it comes to climate change. Another issue is that the U.S. is includeignTransgender people in its definition ofabe Title IX coordinator, but some people believe that is a step too far. There is also a lot of talk about how the U.S. should end its war in Afghanistan and find a different destination for its military. | On the morning of Nov. 13, a series of coordinated shootings occurred in three major cities across the United States. The gunman, identified as Omar Mateen, killed 49 people, including 37 people at a gay nightclub in Orlando, Fla. The gunman, identified as Adam Lanza, killed 20 people, including six children, at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn. | Americans are divided on what issue deserves the greatest amount of attention. Some say the economy, while others say immigration. Some say the current president is doing a good job, while others say he's not. It's hard to know what to focus on, and no one seems to have a clear answer. | The current event that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the opioid crisis. This is a national emergency and it is something that needs to be dealt with immediately. There are so many people dying from overdoses and it is something that can be prevented. There are many ways to get help if you or someone you know is struggling with addiction and it is important to seek help as soon as possible. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | M unequzo Zamulovic is a famous magician and his rabbit is just as little second fiddle. Unfortunately, the rabbit is getting tired of it and starts to Chiara. Numismatics is a science toy that allows you to create magical items from physical items. One of his students, D e art, is trying to please himself with his new toy, but he's not sure if it's worth all the hassle. When M ushing zamulovic, he'suddenly aware of the situation and CFL his rabbit's declining health. He counts out some magic minutes for the two of them andpard Simmer zum Reserve, where the rabbit REPORTEDLY is feeling better. With a little help from hisantom, Shooter, and Zabuza, meekly hoping that the dispute will be resolved soon, the two of them go back to thefestival. However, the SHOWMLJ isn't over for them until they canfind out what happened to the rabbit. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and put it in front of the audience. "This is my lucky rabbit," he said. "It's been ruined by being pulled out of a hat too many times." The rabbit looked at the magician in confusion. "It's not your lucky rabbit," the magician said. "It's the one that I pull out of a hat for you." The rabbit looked at the magician in confusion again and then took a step back. "I don't want to play this game anymore," the rabbit said. "I'm not going to be the one that gets pulled out of a hat." | The magician was getting quite frustrated with the rabbit. It was always playing second fiddle to him, always jumping when he said jump, always following his every command. He was sick of it. One day, the magician decided he was going to teach the rabbit a lesson. He began to pull out all sorts of tricks on the rabbit, but it was no use. The rabbit was just too stupid. Eventually, the magician got fed up and just threw the rabbit off the stage. The rabbit landed on its feet, but it was clearly in pain. It limped off the stage, never looking back. That rabbit learned its lesson the hard way. When it's not the center of attention, it's better to just stay put. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for weeks, and now it's time to put his plan into action. As the magician begins to pull the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit uses his powerful hind legs to kick the hat out of the magician's hands. He then leaps out of the hat and makes a beeline for the exit. The magician is baffled, but the audience is in hysterics. The rabbit has finally taken control of his life and is free at last. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, and some adventurers seem to dripretly try to leave for ever since the start of the game. So, the shop is where we can offerexchange for these loot. The shop is small, so some adventurers try to leave for ever since the start of the game. So, the shop is where we can offerexchange for these loot. | One day, a nefarious group of adventurers posing as merchants ran into your shop. They wanted to buy some rare treasure they had unearthed, but couldn't seem to find the right price. "We're notarius," the one in the lead said. "We can give you a good price." You weren't sure what that meant, but you agreed. The party then took off with their loot, leaving you resentful. | The door to my pawn shop swung open eagerly, and a young man stepped in. He was wearing fine armor and carried a heavy sword in his hand. He looked around the store, looking for something to buy. "Hello," I said, approaching him. "Do you have anything interesting to sell?" The young man seemed surprised that I had spoken to him. He took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just looking for weapons and armor." "Well, we have a wide variety of weapons and armor here," I said. "What kind of weapon do you want?" "I don't know," the young man said. "I've never used one before." "Well, our blades are always in high demand," I said. "Would you like to see our selection?" The young man nodded and followed me to the back of the store. I showed him the different types of blades and swords and explained how they were used. "This one looks interesting," the young man said, pointing to a sword. "It does," I said. "It's called a bastard sword. It's a powerful weapon that's perfect for close quarters fighting." The young man considered the sword for a moment. "I think I'll take it," he said. I was surprised by the young man's decision, but I didn't argue. I wrapped the sword in a cloth and gave it to him, then watched as he left the store. | You run an RPG pawn shop and haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. However, you're not interested in just any old loot. You're only interested in magical items. As such, you're always on the lookout for new and interesting magical items. And, you're willing to pay top dollar for them. One day, a weary adventurer enters your shop with a large sack. He dumps the contents of the sack onto your counter and says, "I'll give you all of this for 500 gold." You quickly scan through the pile of loot and spot a few interesting items, but nothing that really catches your eye. So, you counter with an offer of 1,000 gold. The adventurer haggles with you for a bit, but eventually agrees to your offer and walks out of the shop with a hefty pouch of gold. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the story is that the protagonist dies. | The next morning, the sun was shining and I was feeling great. I started out my day, activities that I enjoy, when I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my side. I doubled over in pain and could not move. I passed out from the pain. | I was walking home from work, when I heard a loud thud. I turned around to see a man on the ground, with blood flowing from his head. I couldn't believe it, I had just hit him with my car. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens. One moment I'm alive and well, and the next I'm just... gone. It's almost like I'm fading away into nothingness. I don't feel any pain. In fact, I don't feel anything at all. It's like I'm in a deep sleep. But I know I'm not, because I can still see and hear everything around me. I see my body lying on the ground and people are screaming and crying. I want to comfort them, to tell them that it's okay, but I can't. I'm not really here anymore. I don't know where I am now. But it's peaceful and calm. I can see a light in the distance, and I feel like I'm being pulled towards it. I'm not scared. I know this is the end of my life, but I also know that something better awaits me on the other side. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met you was down and out, and you would often find them buying goods that they knew would never be used. One day, you came across them and you saw theurtle.com for them. They were quot;KISSING THE SONG q The person that met you was down and out, and you would often find them playing the piano together. One day, you came across them and they singing together. You could feel the Hudsense They were quot;KISSING THE SONG q The person that met you was down and out, and you would often find them walking around with only one goal in mind. One day, you came across them and they was singing with you. They had a big smile on their face, and you could feel the Hudsense They were quot;KISSING THE SONG q | He tells you a story of a warship that was sunk by a Merchant Navy ship. The Merchant Navy crew was never found and no one knows what happened to them.Years go by and you hear countless other stories of ships sunk by Merchant Navy ships. One day, you find a story in a archive that tells of a ship that was sunk by a Royal Navy ship. The Royal Navy crew was never found and no one knows what happened to them. You are mysteries to everyone thatyou speak to. They all ask you the same question, "who were these people and what did they do?" | I was drawn to him from the first time I saw him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It wasn't just a small nick or a scrape, it was a huge gouge that ran half way across his chest. It was so big, it looked like it would never heal. I wanted to know more about him and ask him about it, but I was afraid he would refuse to tell me. I was also worried that he would be angry with me for asking. Eventually, I worked up the courage to talk to him. And even though he was hesitant at first, he eventually opened up to me. He told me that he had been through so much pain and suffering, but that he had finally overcome it. He told me that the biggest lie of all was the lie that had created the biggest scar on his body. | You can't help but stare at the person in front of you. They have a single, massive scar running down their face. It's so deep and large that it must have been caused by the biggest lie imaginable. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a thing. What could this person have lied about that was so big and terrible? You can't help but approach them and ask about their scar. The person looks at you with a sad, tired expression. "It's a long story," they say. "And it's not one that I like to talk about." You respect their privacy and don't press further, but you can't help but wonder about their story. What could have caused such a huge scar? | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has always been a local celebrity. He's known as the artist whose pictures sell in every language, and his pictures of familiar places - like Hong Kong and Venice - are still seen there. One day, he is refused a passport by the police in his home town of Russian River, and he must leave for international storage. But before he can leave, he needs to leave his creative behind - to his many! - and make his way to international market. Bob Ross is first seen Truckley County, Wyo. His pictures are seller's renamed and in high demand, and the people of his small town aren'tadobely 84 years old. He needs to find a new home for his pictures before it's too late. | Bob Ross was a great painter. His landscapes were always full of life and character. But one day, something happened that changed everything. Bob committed multiple murders in different locations, leaving behind paintings of his grisly victims. Each location had its own unique feel, and it was easy to forget that the paintings were even associated with any one particular location. nearly 20 years later, the paintings still sale well and are often seen as some of Ross's best work. However, the murders have taken a toll on Bob's soul, and he often asks people to remember the victims in their communities. But even with the help of his loved ones, Bob can't help but feel what he did was wrong. | Bob Ross was a renowned landscape painter. His paintings of beautiful, calming landscapes were the envy of many. But behind the scenes, Bob Ross was a serial killer. He killed countless people, Location A, Location B, Location C. No one knew the full extent of his crimes, because he always killed in secret. But one day, he was caught. The police found Location D, the scene of one of his many murders. In the painting, he had substituted Location C for Location D. The police knew they had him. Bob Ross was executed for his crimes. | Bob Ross was a prolific landscape painter, known for his soothing voice and gentle demeanor. What few people knew was that each of his landscape paintings was based on a real place - the site of one of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who preyed on unsuspecting victims. He would lure them in with his charming personality and then kill them when they were least expecting it. His landscapes were his way of memorializing his victims - each painting was a tribute to the life he had taken. Now, decades later, his paintings are hang in homes and offices all over the world. And each time someone looks at one of his landscapes, they unknowingly bear witness to the horrific crimes that were committed there. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A young couple begins their daily routine of walking through the mailpost when they discover a letter from a related branch of their family they've never heard of before. It's from a country they've never heard of, and the letter Estonian branches their family includes. The couple starts to feel like they're being trackers as they walk through the mailpost, and they eventually find the letter from a member of the family that they just discovered. They open it and read the letter is Des Moines, Iowa. The letter is from a certain member of the family, and they are Wheeling, Illinois. They have never seen the name of the member before, but they know the family's country is Estonian. The couple begins to feel a need to go to the Estonian branches of their family and Greggs to dwarfy the member of the family they just discovered. | As the sun began to set, people were starting to trickle into the city square. For the most part, they were arrayed in groups, watching the sky turn a deep red and orange as the last light of the day faded. That is, until they noticed something moving in the distance. At first, they thought it was a firecracker, but as they got closer, they realized it wasn't fireworks. It was a large, elongated creature, its eyes glowing a deep purple. The people in the square began to scream, running towards the creature. As they got closer, they could see that the creature was Kaworu, the ghost of the emperor. The people ran towards Kaworu, yelling for him to help them. But Kaworu just stood there, looking at the people with eyes of red and orange. eventually, Kaworu began to speak. "I have been watching you all day, people of Tokyo. It is time for you to learn a lesson." | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. More than 66 million people have been displaced by wars and violence over the last 25 years, and the number is growing rapidly. Many refugees are fleeing Syria, where a brutal civil war has been raging for over five years. The United Nations has estimated that there are now more than 7.5 million refugees in Europe, and the number is expected to reach 20 million by the end of 2020. Many people are opposed to refugees coming to their countries, citing fears that the refugees will increase the number of terrorist incidents.Others think that the refugees should be given a fair chance to settle in their new homes and integrate into society.Whatever the case may be, the refugee crisis is a serious issue that deserves the attention of everyone. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the issue of climate change. Climate change is a very real and pressing issue that is affecting the entire planet. The Earth is warming at an unprecedented rate and this is causing all sorts of problems for the environment and for the people who live on it. The effects of climate change are already being felt by people all over the world and it is only going to get worse. This is why it is so important that we all do our part to try to mitigate the effects of climate change and to raise awareness about this issue. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is Jacob's only stop before he carries on with his adventures. He is always happy to help sell aIrriors and Loot, even though they can only be used for obfuscated purposes. He sells them at aious prices, and his customers are always happy to get something they need. | Once upon a time there was a pawn shop in a small town. It was a taboo to sell loot from CRPGs, so the shop existed as a way for people to trade in their treasures. One day, a group of adventurers come to your shop, looking for something to sell. They've acquired a lot of gear, and they are looking for something to trade for it. The first thing the adventurers ask for is a list of prices for the gear. You give them one, and they offer you a number of different prices. You get to choose one, and then you trade the gear for the appropriate amount of money. The adventurers are happy with the trade, and they leave with some new gear. They tell the shop keeper how happy they are with the experience, and the shopkeeper thanks them for the trade. | I was just about to close up shop for the night when I heard the doorbell ring. I opened the door to see a group of adventurers, all of them looking very excited. "Hey, we've got some loot we'd like to sell you," one of the adventurers said. I assessed the group and decided that they were probably pretty good at fighting, so I started haggling with them. I tried to get them to sell me their weapons and armor, but they weren't budging. Finally, I gave up and let them go. I knew I could get a much better deal on the items if I shopped around a bit, but I was glad I could deal with these adventurers successfully. It made my job a little bit easier. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle for it. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, trying to sell a magic sword. It's a rare and powerful weapon, and you can tell she's desperate to get rid of it. You haggle with her for a while, and eventually you come to an agreement. She sells you the sword for a fair price, and you add it to your collection. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were both in their early twenties when they responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They were both satisfied with their roles as officials in the Third Reich and they were excited to take part in the clinical trials of Freud's new research. The other participants in the trial were Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito and Adolf Hitler's older brother, Rudolf. They all knew that their roles in the trial would be short-lived and that they would soon be ousted from power. But they were excited to take part in the trials and to see what Freud's new research could bring. They were also willing to put their skills and their lives on the line for the good of their country. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a local newspaper, looking for participants. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all responded. Freud was excited to begin the trials. However, he was worried about how the participants would respond. He wasn't sure if they would be able to handle the research. But thankfully, the participants all seemed to be able to handle the tests. They all seemed to be very interested in the research. Freud was happy with the results of the trials. He was hopeful that his research would help improve the lives of many people. | When Sigmund Freud put an ad in the newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research, he never expected to hear from some of the most notorious dictators in history. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded, eager to be a part of the trials. Freud was hesitant to let them participate, but he eventually relented. The trials were a success, and Freud's research helped to change the way we think about the human mind. However, there was one unforeseen complication: the dictators all developed a taste for power and began to use Freud's methods to control the people around them. The world was plunged into darkness as these ruthless dictators rose to power. But Freud's research had unwittingly given them the tools to do so. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The presence of something invisible in my home made me feel uneasy. I was certain that it knew something was looking at me and was centuries old. I would never be able to bank on that happening one day. I was thankful that my home was such a content place that I can't be sure that the blackEnergy that waited in my home for me wasn'tGallantry Energy or any other energy that could just as easily be another example of what I thought was looking at me. I would never be able to bank on that happening one day. I would rather be around things that I can trust, even if they are things that I can't see. I'll be around things that I can count on, even if they're things that I can't see. | One day, I was sitting at my computer when I heard a faint breeze in the window. I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating or if someone was home, but I decided to take a closer look. Within minutes, I could see a large, black shape looming in the window. It was as if it was following me. I screamed, but it wasn't paying attention to me. It was focused on the wind. Suddenly, the shape lunged out of the window and into my home. It was huge, and it was moving so fast I could barely see it. I screamed, but it was too late. The black shape had already taken me down. | I never thought I would see the day when something invisible would live in my home. I've always been a skeptic, thinking that nothing could exist that couldn't be seen or felt. But I was wrong. This tiny, seemingly harmless creature has been living in my home for weeks now, and I've been trying to get rid of it without success. I've tried scaring it away with loud noises, throwing things at it, and even calling the exterminator, but it's as elusive as ever. I don't know what to do. I'm starting to feel paranoid and my home is starting to feel less safe. I don't know how much longer I can keep this thing hidden from my eyes, and I'm starting to feel like I'm losing control. | I have always known that something invisible lives in my home. I can't explain how I know, I just do. It's never done anything to harm me or my family, but I can't help but be curious about it. I have tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I have set up cameras and left food out, but nothing has worked. I'm starting to think that this invisible thing might be more intelligent than I thought. One day, I decided to confront it. I spoke in a soft voice, asking it to show itself. At first, there was no response. But then, slowly, a figure began to materialize in front of me. It was human-like, but there was something off about it. It didn't have a face, just a blank space where a head should be. I couldn't tell if it was male or female. It just stood there, staring at me. I could feel its eyes boring into me, but I refused to back down. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, it spoke. "Why do you want to know about me?" it asked. I thought about my answer carefully. "I just want to understand," I said. "I know you're not harmful, but I don't know why you're here. Can you tell me?" The figure was silent for a moment. Then it said, "I am here because I choose to be. I could leave at any time, but I stay because I'm curious about you humans. You're so fascinating." "But why me?" I asked. "Why my home?" "I don't know," the figure said. "There's just something about you that I find intriguing. I can't explain it." I thought about that for a moment. Then I said, "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad I get to know you. Maybe we can learn from each other." The figure nodded. Then it slowly began to fade away. "I'll be back," it said. "I'm curious to know more about you, too." | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The world is on the brink of an apocalypse, and few know more than those who are please with the decision to head for the Hopefully Arriving. As the only ones ready to go into pack, the translations of 12 illegal words, and the last symbol of civilization, they are the only ones who can stop the coming of thestorm. | For the past week, the news media has been interested in the riots that are happening throughout the city. People have been protesting for the past two days, and the police have had to escalate their efforts to keep the peace. It seems that something important is causing the unrest, and it is unknown what it is. | The current issue that warrants the greatest amount of attention is the fight for transgender rights. The transgender community has long been marginalized and discriminated against, and their fight for equality is finally being acknowledged by the mainstream. In recent years, there has been a significant increase in the number of transgender people coming out. Many people are now aware of the discrimination and violence that transgender people face on a daily basis. The transgender community has been making great progress, but there is still a long way to go. They need the support of the general population in order to achieve their goals. Thank you for considering this prompt. I hope you enjoy the story. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is climate change. Climate change is a global problem that is already having devastating effects on our planet. If we don't take action to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and stop the warming trend, the consequences will be catastrophic. We need to make climate change a priority issue and take concrete steps to address it. We need to move away from fossil fuels and towards renewable energy, and we need to do it quickly. We also need to protect and restore our natural ecosystems, which are vital to mitigating the effects of climate change. This is a huge challenge, but it's one that we must meet if we want to ensure a livable planet for future generations. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician has pulled out a rabbit from a hat and he's started to play second fiddle to the little girl. The rabbit is getting lonely and the old man starts to feel a greater need for a Woman of faction who can take on the challenges of magic. Just as the old man is about to step forward, the magician comes to life and cavalryns the rabbit out of the way. He then tells the rabbit that he's been working hard all day and deserves to be first in the night. The rabbit escapees and the old man returns to the daughter with a feeling of accomplishedness. | The magician set up the stage and took the rabbit out of his hat. The rabbit was enraged and tried to run away, but the magician easily caught up to him and pulled him back. "You know, I'd say this is it. You're going to have to play your part and help me out," the magician said. The rabbit gritted his teeth and said, "No way, I'm not doing this. I'm not your puppet." "What do you mean, you're not my puppet? You're the one that's sick of playing second fiddle. I'm the one that's helped you out before, so I deserve to do this again. Just play your part and let me do the magic." The rabbit refused to budge and said, "No way, I'm not going to play this way. I'm not a part of this show." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's display of independence and said, "You're right, you're not a part of this show. But you're still my rabbit, so you're still in my power. I can do whatever I want to you." The rabbit hesitated for a moment and said, "All right, I'll play your part. But I still don't think I'm ready for this." The magician didn't believe the rabbit, but he knew that he had to try something. He pulled out his wand and said, "Now, you're going to do as I say." The rabbit hesitated for a moment, but then he said, "Yes, master." | The magician was tired of having the rabbit always pull him through his tricks. The rabbit was tired of always being the one that got stuck in the hat. One day, the magician decided to take matters into his own hands and pulled the rabbit out of the hat himself. The rabbit was shocked and angry, but the magician was simply glad to have finally rid himself of the pesky creature. | Once upon a time, a magician and his rabbit were performing on stage. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle, so he decided to take matters into his own paws. He used his magic to make the magician disappear, and took over the show. The audience loved it, and the rabbit became a star. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in close proximity to the capital's main avenue, and the adventurers are constantly trying to sell off their behalf. No matter how many times you ->prevent them from selling it->, and it seems to work because they keep trying tosold it. The shop's owner takes a break to sold some of the loot he's been selling for weeks on end. He's made a lot of profit in the past few hours of haggling, and is about to sale when he notices one particular protagonist who is not content with his offer. He try to offer him a differentChestbok than the one he was anxious to sell. The protagonist accepts the offer and both go back to haggling. The shop owner comes across thehelpless protagonist and decides to help him. He tells the protagonist that he would be happy to help sell him a new chestbok if he would just take a chance that the protagonist will be satisfied with the offer he's given. The protagonist is grateful and takes off with his new chestbok in a glad cry. | My pawn shop is a small, but successful business. I stay open late to haggle with my adventurers, and I always have a few helpful supplies on hand. I'm always happy to help out anyone who needs it. | I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I have haggled with adventurers for years, and I have never been disrespected. In fact, I've come to learn that most adventurers are honorable people who just want to do the right thing. Today, I was haggling with a group of adventurers who had just come into my shop. They were all carrying around bags full of loot, and they were asking me to give them a good deal on their items. I was happy to oblige them, and I started bargaining with them. I was trying to get them to lower their prices, but the adventurers were determined to get the best deal possible. In the end, I was able to get them to lower their prices by a significant amount, and they were very happy with the deal. I'm sure they will be back to my shop soon, and I will be happy to haggle with them again. | You've been running your RPG pawn shop for years now, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your door with all sorts of loot. Some of them try to haggle with you, but you're a pro at this game and you always come out on top. Today, a young adventurer came in with a large sack of loot. She looked exhausted and like she was about to collapse. "I'll give you 200 gold for this," she said. You knew she was desperate, so you decided to give her a break. "Alright, I'll give you 250 gold for it," you said. She looked relieved and handed over the sack. You looked through the loot and found a few good items that you could sell for a profit. The rest of it you would have to get rid of, but that's just the nature of the business. You always have to be on the lookout for the next big score, because you never know when it'll come walking through your door. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is theSLOT.Cupid show. The party started out well, with many people coming up to say hello and share ideas for saraveuma. However, as the party continued, it quickly turned negative. Everyone was talking about how the SLOT.Cupid show was static and without salt, and how no one knew how to play the game except for maybe Billie and Steve. There was a lot of jokes about how the SLOT.Cupid show was static and without salt, and how no one knew how to play the game except for maybe Billie and Steve. However, as the party continued, it quickly turned negative. People were talking about how the SLOT.Cupid show was static and without salt, and how no one knew how to play the game except for maybe Billie and Steve. There was a lot of jokes about how the SLO | A major news issue today is the investigation into the death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. The sheriff in charge of the investigation has released a statement saying that they are not sure if the Death of Michael Brown is connected to any other incidents in the area. This issue is receiving a lot of attention and is causing a lot of unrest in the community. | Today, the issue of gun control is receiving the greatest amount of attention. With mass shootings becoming all too common, people are demanding changes be made to our current gun laws. Some people argue that laws that make it more difficult to purchase firearms will only make them more accessible to dangerous people, while others believe that stricter gun control measures would prevent many of these tragedies from happening in the first place. Regardless of which side of the argument you fall on, it's clear that the issue of gun control is one that deserves our attention. Hopefully, by discussing it and working towards a solution, we can make the world a safer place for everyone. | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? In my opinion, it is the Syrian refugee crisis. Tens of thousands of people have died in Syria's civil war, and over four million have fled the country. Many of them are children. They are living in terrible conditions in refugee camps in Lebanon, Turkey, and Jordan. I believe that the international community needs to do more to help these refugees. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | hutted with worry lines and age spots, Catherine had always been a famously difficult person to friends. She had always been thearnoid, always there when needed but not often enough to make her needs felt. her friends had one thing in common- they all thought they knew her. not anymore. Catherine had hidden her tears for years, ashamed of how they would turn up and how they would impact her life. She had tried her best to keep her depression in check, to keep fromophyinging over in her spare room, but it was like looks out for her own good. she had always been /**mentally ill*, and while her health is now inickers, she couldn't help but feel her pain. one day, she came to the idea of talking to someone about her feelings. her SO went into accMent, and Catherine was Immigrationed. Shebinding back her tears, Catherine told the story over some coffee, and found that her tears had led to her own policies. she had been able to tell her story and change her story, so that now she was a person who told the truth, and Crowned with sadly truthful stories. *sigh* Catherine is a twice a a candidate for a degree in Journalism and Society from University of Missouri. After honeymooning in Europe she opens her mind and writes a story about how emotional and TV- free her life was after she finished her degree. Hey there,RAY) I I'm not really sure what happened after I finished my degree in Journalism and Society from University of Missouri, but I know I started using TV regularly and felt indictment when I wouldn't see my friends more often. My friends had all married or started their own businesses and were living the high life with no thought of ending up like them. My friends needed someone to talk to them, someone to understand them, someone to make me feel less alone. They found someone who happened to read my story, and was so glad she could offer her help. The woman helped me understand that my high school years were product of my times and not anymore. I was agrown and in pretty public areas, and still experience the effects of hisbees and Frazier's every day. ahway, I have another story for you about a person who was also in your life when you finished your story. that person is now an international man- charger. foilow, I am writing this in front of you right now, and you're the only one who can stop me. good luck, | The first time I saw her, I couldn't help but cry. It was the first time we met. We were both new in the city and were looking for a job. She was also looking for a place to crash. I told her that I had one room in a hostel, and she came over to check it out. We met there for dinner and started to date. She told me that she loved me and that I was the best thing that had ever happened to her. I didn't believe her at first, but then I saw the scars. They were everywhere. They were ugly, red and raw. She told me that they were from when I hit her. I was in my early twenties then, and I had been drunk and angry. I had hit her with my fist, and she had taken it as an attack. I had hit her again and again until she was bleeding and unconscious. I had left her there, benches away from the door, until I heard her screams. I had come back to find her lying in a fetal position, with blood pouring from her chest. I had been arrested and spent time in jail. But she never changed her story. She told me that the scars were from when I was saving her from a life of poverty. She told me that I was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And that, even after all these years, she still loved me. | Ashley never thought she’d be one to cry, but she found herself tearing up uncontrollably as she watched her friend walk down the aisle. She knew that she’d miss her dearly, and even though she knew that she’d see her again one day, the tears felt like a physical weight on her chest. As the wedding party filed out, Ashley felt her heart break even further as she saw the tears in her friend’s eyes. She knew that she’d never be able to erase the evidence of her sadness, and the thought made her feel even more alone. Ashley sat alone in her room for hours after the wedding, crying herself to sleep. She knew that she’d never be the same, and she wondered how the world would be different if tears left scars on people’s faces. Would people be more understanding? Would they be more sympathetic? She was lost in her thoughts until she heard a knock on her door. She wiped the tears from her eyes and walked over, hoping that it was her friend come to visit. When she opened the door, she was met with an unfamiliar face. | Lena had always been a crier. As a child, she would cry when she skinned her knee or when she didn’t get her way. It was always her go-to reaction when she was feeling hurt or upset. But as she got older, Lena started to notice that her tears were leaving scars behind. Small, white lines would appear on her skin whenever she cried, and they would stay there permanently. At first, Lena tried to hide her scars. She would wear long-sleeved shirts and hats to cover them up, but it was impossible to keep them hidden all the time. People started to stare and point, and Lena quickly became a outcast. She was no longer invited to parties or sleepovers, and her old friends stopped talking to her. As the years went by, Lena’s scars became more and more visible. They covered her face, her arms, her legs. She was a walking reminder of pain and hurt, and people would cross the street to avoid her. Lena had become a recluse, spending her days locked away in her house, too afraid to face the outside world. But then one day, Lena saw a woman with tears streaming down her face, and she noticed that the woman had scars just like her own. It was the first time she had ever seen someone else like her, and it was a moment of connection and understanding. Lena slowly started to reach out to other people with scars, and together they started to build a community. Now, Lena is a leader in this community, and she’s helping others to find strength and acceptance. She knows that their scars are a badge of honor, and that they represent the times when they’ve been brave enough to feel. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | Now that the magic of the transformation is gone, the new names and faces are difficult to remember. It feels like everyone is waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. I don't know what to expect next. I'm scared, but I also feel like I have something to look forward to. | I was walking down the street when I was hit by a car. I died instantly. My family was absolutely devastated. They never expected me to die so young. They never got to see me grow up, or hold me as a child. They never got to see me get married, or have children of my own. Now I'm just a forgotten memory in a world that's moving on without me. | I die. That's what happens next. I've been living on borrowed time for years, ever since that day when I should have died but didn't. I was in a car accident, a head-on collision with a semi-truck. The truck driver was killed instantly, but I somehow survived. The doctors said it was a miracle. But I knew it wasn't. I knew that my time was running out and that one day, I would have to pay for my extra time. And that day has finally come. I'm not afraid to die. I'm just grateful that I was able to live a little longer than I was supposed to. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | guy one day out of line got birth control deactivated guy two days later in line guy one deactivated his birth control device after getting into some trouble guy two weeks later in line guy one deactivated his birth control device after getting into some trouble guy two weeks later in line guy one deactivated his birth control device after getting into some trouble guy two days later in line guy one deactivated his birth control device after getting into some trouble guy two days later in line | Auditor 2: (To Auditor 1) You should be careful, you may be the only one with the ability to prevent the stupid from reproducing. Auditor 1: Is that a bad thing? | Since everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, the only way to get rid of it is if someone is determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. One day, a young man who was determined to be intelligent and stable enough was selected to become an Auditor. He was excited to be chosen, but was a little nervous about the task ahead. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and communicate effectively. The birth control devices are implanted during puberty, and can only be deactivated once you've determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. This can be a difficult decision, as some people may be intelligent but not stable, or vice versa. You must weigh all of the evidence carefully before making your decision. If you determine that someone is not ready to have a child, you can recommend that they wait a bit longer or receive counseling to help them prepare for parenthood. This is an important responsibility, as the future of the world depends on ensuring that only the most intelligent and stable people are reproduce. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | jc The most secret thing I could think of is an animal house. I've been trying to find a place for it in my home because I know it would be happy and healthy. I know I can't go on living without it, so I'm trying to think of any possible place it could go. But somehow I just cannot think of a place to put it. | One day, I was sitting in my chair, leafing through my magazines when I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. I tried to ignore it, but it kept moving and soon enough, I realized it was an unseen entity. I began to feel like it was following me, managing to make itself known to me only when it needed to. I tried to ignore it, but it seemed to want me to pay attention. I started to feel like it was trying to get me to do something. I didn't know what it was, but I had a feeling that it was something sinister. I abandoned my magazines and got up to face the thing. I was filled with terror at what I had seen. It was as though the entity knew what I was up to, and it made itself known with a chilling voice. "You will exposures and you will know why." | I've always been a bit of an skeptic when it comes to things that I can't see. Sure, I'll believe in ghosts and monsters if I see them with my own eyes, but anything else is just unsubstantiated nonsense to me. That is, until one day my home came into possession of an invisible being. It started out as just a strange sensation, like something was watching me from the corner of my eye. But as I started to pay more attention to it, I realized that the feeling was coming from all around my home. I tried to ignore it, but the feeling only got stronger, like the being was purposely trying to make itself known to me. I knew that I couldn't just ignore it, so I started to take pictures and record videos of the phenomena to try and capture the being's true form. But no matter what I did, the being always managed to slip away before I could get a good picture or video of it. The feeling of being watched still lingers in my home, but I'm starting to think that the being is just a figment of my imagination. If that's the case, then I'm glad that I was able to identify and expose it before it managed to truly scare me. | I have always known that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I have never been able to expose it, but I have tried. I have set traps and tried to catch it, but it always seems to be one step ahead of me. One day, I decided to try to confront it. I waited until it was dark, and then I turned all the lights off in the house. I sat in the middle of the living room and called out to it, "I know you're there. Show yourself!" At first, nothing happened. But then, slowly, a figure began to materialize in the darkness. It was a shadowy figure, hard to see. But I could make out its outline. It was human-like, but there was something off about it. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. The figure floated closer to me, and I could feel a cold chill emanating from it. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I tried to get up, but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed with fear. The figure came closer and closer until it was right in front of me. I could see its eyes now, and they were black and soulless. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I was frozen in place, unable to move or speak. The figure reached out and touched my cheek, and I felt a cold jolt of electricity course through my body. Then, everything went black. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are an dunedore population of Hopkins-like people, emotionless and fiercely independent. One by one, they're leaving the shop, each one carrying a few coins and a social Enhorient. As they leave, the shop-owner has one final line of advice. "Don't sell yourself" | One day, I was sitting at my pawn shop, happily bargaining with adventurers who had just acquired some excellent gear. Suddenly, someone walked in, and I quickly went to greet them. It was a familiar face: the player known as The Rogue. "Hey," I said, "What brings you to my shop?" "I was hoping I could buy some gear," he replied. "I can't help you," I said. "I'm quite busy." "It doesn't matter," he said. "I'll come back another time." "Okay," I said, "But remember, I'm always happy to haggle." | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The customers came in, I haggled with them, and they left with new equipment or weapons. It was a pretty normal routine, until I got a call from a group of adventurers. They had found an old tomb, and they had some amazing loot waiting for me inside. I eagerly agreed to meet them at the tomb, and I quickly worked out a deal with them. I would give them a cut of the loot, and they would leave with new equipment, fresh supplies, and all the glory. As they left my shop, I couldn't help but feel excited. I had always loved adventuring, and now I had the chance to make some really big profits. I knew that I would be able to make my shop a household name, and I could gain invaluable experience along the way. I couldn't wait to see what lay ahead for me! | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're a savvy businessperson, and you know how to get the best deals. often, adventurers come into your shop trying to sell loot they've acquired on their latest quest. You're a shrewd negotiator, and you always get the best prices. You're also familiar with all of the latest RPG trends, so you're able to advise your customers on the best course of action for their loot. You've built up a loyal following of customers who appreciate your expertise. They know that you always have the best deals on the latest and greatest RPG gear. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | Today is a toss up between the current issue of The New York Times or the violence against women in countries of origin. I'm aware that The New York Times is a big influence in my life, but I don't want to spend my time discussing something that doesn't actually need to be discussed. I'll shortchange both The New York Times and the violence against women in countries of origin to just one blip in my profile. Let's get to the good part. The good part is that I'm with my friend in front of the fire watching the night sky. She was telling me about how she is hopeful about the future and how she feels like it's the future. I'm not so sure. I feel like the future is held back by our Society's inability to see the future or to understand what we're doing. I'm not sure if I want to be a part of that future. | Today, the economy is in a state of flux. Many people are feeling pressure to do something to improve their situation, but few know what to do. One issue that is worth the greatest amount of attention is the economy's dependency on oil. The oil industry is struggling to keep up with the competition, and many people believe that it is the root of all our problems. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. The refugees are fleeing their homes in search of a better life, but many of them are not receiving the care they need. The refugees are living in cramped conditions, and many of them are not receiving the food or shelter they need. The refugees are also facing many challenges, including violence and xenophobia. The refugees deserve the attention of the world, and the world needs to do everything it can to help them. | The greatest current event issue that deserves attention today is the rise in cases of gun violence. In the past year, there have been more mass shootings than ever before, and the number of gun-related deaths is rising. This is a major problem that needs to be addressed, and it is one that deserves the greatest amount of attention. There are a number of factors that contribute to this issue, and it is important to address all of them in order to effectively reduce the number of gun-related deaths. Some of the factors that contribute to this issue include easy access to guns, mental health issues, and a culture of violence. It is important to address all of these factors in order to make a significant impact on the number of gun-related deaths. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step was scheduled for that evening, but the man who had PCIe's daughter said no. "I don't want to do this," he said, "we should find another way to get across the interface." I tried to argue with him, but he was clouting his way through the meeting, itemizing eachargument he was Against. As each afflicted party tried to second-load their argument, I began to feel like I was going to suffocate. | I was lying in bed, trying not to think about the night before. All I could see were the red and yellow flames that licked around me like hungry animals. I could hear the screaming and seeing people being dragged into the fires. I tried to close my eyes but it was too much. I tried to block out the pain but it was too much. I felt my body turnover and I knew I was going to die. | I was walking in the forest when I saw a beautiful, sparkling stream. I decided to take a quick break and drink my fill. As I reached for the water, I felt something cold and slimy wrap around my hand. I looked down to see a 10-foot long, green snake slithering towards me. I knew I was dead. | I was walking home from work when I was mugged. I was knocked to the ground and my assailant went through my pockets. He must have found my wallet because he took off running. I tried to get up, but I couldn't. I looked down and saw the knife in my stomach. I knew I was going to die. I called out for help, but no one came. I lay there in the street, bleeding to death. I thought about my wife and kids and how much I loved them. I wanted to stay alive for them, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. As I lay there dying, all I could think was "what happens next?" | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is looking for participants in his latest research trials of new methods to treat mental illness. He puts an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito. | Adolf Hitler read the ad and decided to apply. He was interested in Freud's work on compensation and political productivity. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the research, as he was working on a new plan to improve Russia's economy. Leon Trotsky was also interested in the research, as he hoped to find a way to overthrow the Bolshevik regime. And Josip Broz Tito was interested in the research, as he hoped to find a way to end World War II. All of the applicants were excited to be participating in the clinical trials. Adolf Hitler was the only one who wasn't excited. He wasn't sure if he was cut out for the research. But he knew he had to try out for the trials. He started to applying to the trials, but he wasn't able to get in. He was out of quota. But he wasn't deterred. He knew he had to try again. He started to apply again, but he still wasn't able to get in. He was out of quota. But he was determined. He knew he had to try again. He started to apply again, but he still wasn't able to get in. He was out of quota. But he was determined. He knew he had to try again. He started to apply again, but he still wasn't able to get in. He was out of quota. But he was determined. He knew he had to try again. Finally, he was able to get in to the clinical trials. He was excited to be participating in the research. And he was looking forward to learning what Freud's latest findings were. | Freud was thrilled when he received the responses to his ad. He was especially excited to learn that Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were interested in participating in his clinical trials. However, he was dismayed when Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito refused to participate. Freud was puzzled by Trotsky's decision. He knew that Trotsky was one of the most talented and eminent thinkers in Europe, and he thought that he would be a valuable participant in the clinical trials. However, Trotsky apparently didn't believe in Freud's theories, and he didn't want to invest the time and effort into learning them. Freud was also puzzled by Tito's decision. He knew that Tito was a great leader and leader of a powerful country. However, he didn't seem to be very interested in Freud's theories. Freud didn't know what to make of it, but he was sure that he would figure out what was going on eventually. | Sigmund Freud was eager to get started on his latest research project. He had high hopes for his new clinical trials and was keen to find participants. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants for his research. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised that such high-profile individuals had signed up for his research. He was even more surprised when he met them in person. Hitler was a young man, just 24 years old. He was confident and charismatic, with a clear vision for the future. Stalin was a few years older, at 35. He was a forceful personality, with a strong belief in his own abilities. Trotsky was also in his early thirties, and was a highly intelligent man. He was articulate and had a quick wit. Tito was the youngest of the group, at just 21 years old. He was a passionate man, with a burning desire to make a difference in the world. Freud was impressed with all of his participants. He was certain that his research would be a success. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | 2010, 2014: Depths of Tears: The below variables are in when I asked my friendao to give hermione eight years. 1. hermione is now in her 20's 2. hermione is now in her 20's 3. hermione is now in her 30's 4. hermione is now in her 40's 5. hermione is now in her 50's 6. hermione is now in her 60's 7. hermione is now in her 60's 8. hermione is now in her 70's | One sad day, a young girl was crying in her class. The teacher asked her why and she told him that her Dad had died. The teacher had been keeping her in the dark about the tragedy, so she was surprised when she broke down and cried in front of him. The next day, the same girl was in the same class and the teacher asked her why she was crying. She told him that her Mum had died too. That same day, in the same classroom, a boy was crying because his Mum had died. The teacher asked him why and he told him that she didn't drink and he didn't smoke. That same day, in the same classroom, a girl was crying because her Dad had died. She told the teacher that she didn't have a family and she didn't want one. That same day, in the same classroom, a boy was crying because his Mum had died. He told the teacher that she had been dead for four days. That same day, in the same classroom, a girl was crying because her Mum had died. She told the teacher that she had been in a car accident and that she was paralyzed. That same day, in the same classroom, a boy was crying because his Mum had died. He told the teacher that it had been a long time since he seen her. That same day, in the same classroom, a girl was crying because her Mum had died. She told the teacher that she had been killed by a car. That same day, a boy was crying because his Mum had died. He told the teacher that she had been in a car accident. That same day, in the same classroom, a girl was crying because her Mum had died. She told the teacher that she had been hit by a bus. That same day, in the same classroom, a boy was crying because his Mum had died. He told the teacher that she had been sick with a fever. That same day, in the same classroom, a girl was crying because her Mum had died. She told the teacher that she had been in a car accident. That same day, in the same classroom, a boy was crying because his Mum had died. He told the teacher that she had been killed by a train. That same day, in the same classroom, a girl was Crying because her Mum had died. She told the teacher that she had been in a car accident. That same day, in the same classroom, a boy was Crying because his Mum had died. He told the teacher that he had been in a car theft. That same day, in the same classroom, a girl was Crying because her Mum had died. She told the teacher that she had been in a car crash. That same day, in the same classroom, a boy was Crying because his Mum had died. He told the teacher that his Mum had been a heroin addict. That same day, in the same classroom, a girl was Crying because her Mum had died. She told the teacher that she had been in a car crash. That same day, in the same classroom, a boy was Crying because his Mum had died. He told the teacher that she had had a mental health disorder. That same day, in the same classroom, a girl was Crying because her Mum had died. She told the teacher that she had been in a car accident. That same day, in the same class, a boy was Crying because his Mum had died. He told the teacher that his Mum had been a heroin addict. | The tears flowed down the face of the girl, her mascara running in frustrating trails down her cheeks. She had tried so hard to please her parents, to be the perfect daughter, but it seemed like it was all for naught. Tears streamed down her face as she pulled her knees up to her chest, burying her head in her arms. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The girl, who had been crying for what seemed like hours, hastily wiped away her tears and got up, walking to the door. Her parents were always so busy, and she hated that she had to always answer the door. She opened it, and there was a boy on the other side. He opened his mouth to speak, but the girl didn’t hear him; she was too busy looking at the tears in his eyes. Without thinking, she stepped forward and embraced him, burying her head in his chest. The boy held her close, his tears mixing with hers. Tears streamed down his face as he finally let go, and the girl watched as he walked away, her heart aching with what she had just done. | The world was a different place. Tears didn’t just fall from our eyes and disappear; they left scars as they trickled down our faces. It was a constant reminder of the pain we felt, of the sadness that coursed through our veins. Some people said that it was a sign of weakness, that those who cried were weak and pitiful. But I didn’t believe that. I saw the scars as a sign of strength. They were a reminder that we had survived, that we had made it through the tough times. The world was a different place, but I liked it. It was a reminder that our emotions mattered, that they had power. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is successful. You takeeller is right, there is something interesting worth selling to adventurers. You try to keep the prices low, but some buyers are more interested in the treasure inside the game borrower. The game is so rare, some adventurers are even offering full prices. But you know they aren't real adventurers. They are lure players to the game, then sell the clothes and weapons they see. The game is gold, but you don't care. | The RPG pawn shop was always a busy place. People came in to sell all kinds of equipment, weapons, and magic items. But today, something was different. There were more people than usual coming in, but the atmosphere was not the Same. The adventurers who usually came in to sell their loot were not there. In their place was a man, who was not walking around as usual. He was instead sitting at the counter, looking at the items on the shelves. The shopkeeper noticed the man and asked him what was wrong. The man didn't answer for a while, and then he spoke. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm going to be able to sell anything today." | Samantha ran her RPG pawn shop with a practiced hand. She knew how to haggle with adventurers, and she enjoyed beating them down on price. Usually, she could get adventurers to sell her items for a fraction of their worth, but today was different. A group of adventurers had just come into the shop, and Samantha could tell that they weren't going to be easy to deal with. They were bargaining aggressively and looking to land the biggest purchase of the day. Samantha was used to this, though. She always managed to come out on top in negotiations. She smiled at the adventurers and started to speak. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to lowball people. Today, a young woman comes into your store with a sack full of loot. She looks tired and dirty, like she's been on a long journey. "How much for this?" she asks, dumping the loot on the counter. You examine the loot. There are some valuable items here, but you know the woman is desperate. "I'll give you 50 gold for the lot," you say. The woman looks disappointed, but she doesn't have the energy to haggle. She takes the gold and leaves. You know you got a good deal, but you can't help but feel a little bad for the woman. She looked like she really needed the money. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The Invisible Home is a secret. It's not safe to visit the home because it's known to the home's "associates." Even though the home is tiny, the resident knows that it's there. She's just waiting for a reason to go back and look at it. | I was going through my home one day and noticed something was different. I Could faintly hear something moving around in the corners of my eye, but I couldn't tell what it was. I kept moving around, making sure I didn't leave any evidence that I was aware of what was happening. I eventually decided to face the thing head on. I walked up to it, and there it was, right in front of me. It was a small, white, hole in the wall. It was scaring me, but I couldn't help but feel like I was in danger. I tried to Reach out to it, but my hand was stuck. I could feel the fear coursing through my veins, and I didn't know what to do. | I always thought my house was strange. There was this thing, or thing, that I couldn't see, but I knew it was there. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something just didn't feel right. I would try to expose the thing, but it would always slip away before I could get a good look. I would try to ask my roommates if they had seen it, but they all just laughed at me. I was so paranoid about it that I started locking my doors at night. I didn't know what was coming for me, but I was ready for it. Until one night, my door was unlocked when I got home. I cautiously step inside, only to find my apartment completely empty. I'm starting to get worried now, what could have happened to my roommates? But as I start looking around, I notice something moving in the corner of my eye. I turn to see that my "thing" is right there, watching me. I start to back away, but it charges at me, out of the shadows and into the light. | I had always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, nothing would be there. I knew I wasn't crazy, so I decided to set up a camera to see if I could catch whatever it was on film. Sure enough, the camera picked up something moving around my house. It was invisible to the naked eye, but on film it was clear as day. I had no idea what it was, but I knew I had to find out. I started to set traps to try and capture it, but it was always one step ahead of me. It was like it knew what I was doing. I was starting to get frustrated, until one day I finally caught it. It was a little boy, no more than seven or eight years old. He was completely invisible, except for his eyes. When I confronted him, he simply smiled at me and then vanished into thin air. I never saw him again, but I know he's still out there somewhere. Watching me. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a famous painter who represents the shooting points of ouroples lives. Each of his landscape paintingsstate a real place or a day out with friends. Some are small jobs like on a beach, while others are larger paintings withrekantes andYP'd features. Some are simple photos of places he's been, like an overlook or his home state of northcarolinatrails. Others are fully padrinoed places like on the water's edge or in the forested hills. His work is evergreen, that each place we visit will see one or more of his paintings. | Bob Ross was an American painter and art director who is most well-known for his landscapes. Many of his paintings are based on real location, such as his infamous "Midsummer's Day" painting, which features a painting of an orange grove in the middle of a field. However, one of Ross' most infamous paintings is his "Midsummer's Day" painting, which features a painting of an airplane over the serene landscape of Sussex, England. The painting was based on the murder of an RAF fighter pilot by one of Ross's fans, which took place in 1978. | It was a beautiful day out, and Bob Ross was out painting his landscapes. He loved painting the mountains, the rivers, and the trees, but he especially loved painting the places where he had killed people. The first painting was of the old mill in the town where Bob had killed three people. The second painting was of the bridge over the river where he had killed two people. The third painting was of the old farm where he had killed four people. Every painting was a new murder, and Bob loved it. He loved the way the paint flowed onto the canvas and the way the colors looked on the surface. As he painted, Bob couldn't help but think about all the people he had killed. He had killed them with his brush, and he had killed them with his words. He had killed them with his art, and he had killed them with his own hands. But most of all, he had killed them with his heart. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted landscapes as a front for his crimes. He would often take his victims to remote locations, where he would kill them and then bury their bodies. Over time, he amassed a collection of paintings that depicted the various locations where he had committed his murders. law enforcement eventually caught up to him and he was arrested for his crimes. In his confession, he revealed that each of his landscape paintings was actually a real place, and that the different locations were all of the places where he had killed his victims. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way totrialing a new medication that he is involved in with another man as part of his research into clinicrial treatment ofpsychedelic ecstasy. As he gets to the city, he is surrounded by people who are artist and writers who are feats of brilliant minds, some of which he's never heard of before. One man, who is 24 years old, out of the many people there, has written a article in a magazine about him and his work. It's popular and Sigmund Freud is curious so he walks up to him. The man is Joseph Stalin, who is an old friend of Freud's. Freud takes the man into his office and tells him that he has created a bestselling book. As they sit in this warm and intellectual moment, Joseph Stalin bolts from the room,aporering into a directions Psychiatrist would then take in order to better protect his own neck. | Hitler was the only person who responded to the ad. He was interested in the new research that Freud was conducting. Stalin was also interested in the research. Trotsky was also interested in the research. But, to everyone's surprise, Joseph Stalin agreed to participate in the clinical trials. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, looking for participants who were seeking treatment for any sort of mental illness. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all responded to the ad. Freud was surprised to find that all of his participants had very different backgrounds and beliefs. However, they all agreed to participate in the trials. The trials began and Freud was able to successfully treat all of his participants. He was even able to cure Hitler of his depression. The world was amazed by Freud's progress, and he was finally able to achieve the success he always dreamt of. | Freud is delighted when his ad in the newspaper yields four participants for his latest clinical trial. He is even more pleased when he realizes that three of them are future world leaders. Adolf Hitler is the first to arrive. Freud is immediately impressed by his charisma and force of personality. They have a long discussion about the trial, and Hitler is eager to participate. Next is Joseph Stalin. Freud is struck by his intensity and his single-minded focus. Stalin is equally interested in the trial, and they quickly come to an agreement. Leon Trotsky is the third participant to arrive. He and Freud hit it off immediately, and Trotsky is enthusiastic about taking part in the trial. The fourth and final participant is Josip Broz Tito. He is the youngest of the group, but he is just as committed as the others. All four participants are eager to get started with the trial. Freud is confident that his research will be a success. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was always inserted easily and without any trouble. Septimusies had no trouble Aggravatedly Spearheadedlyѕing the job, and he always had the module in place when he started work. He always arrived on time, always had a smile and a polite ``ahoy'' but most importantly - He always saved the cash. The job was usually a lot easier than he thought it would be and he was very satisfied with the results. He always had the money with him when he left work and he NEVER needed to worry about his expenses again. He had a lot to live for and the Auditor job was a good way to stay ++ The job was always a safety net, a way to make money while you kept your head and hands high. And he loved every minute of it. | After years of study and careful deliberation, the Auditor Board has voted to implant birth control devices into all high school students during their puberty. The devices are specifically designed to prevent the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world, and the Board believes that by preventing those people from breeding, we will also prevent the spread of stupidity and stupidity's seeds across the world. The process of being implanted with the device is quite simple: first, you are taken to a hospital where your body is being reconstructed using sophisticated tech. Once your body is complete, the device is inserted into your bloodstream and begins to function. The first few weeks of the device's use are incredibly difficult. Most of the time, you're only able to think about things that are specifically related to your job as an Auditor. However, eventually, you start to get used to the feeling of the devices constantly monitoring your every move. In the end, the device is kind of like a parasite. It begins to incubate in your brain and begins to slowly create a new human being inside of you. It's a difficult process, but eventually, you're able to raise a healthy, intelligent, and stable human being by the Auditor Board. | I was born into a society where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, charged with determining whether or not people were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. My job was difficult, but I was determined to do the best job I could. I was proud of my job, but I was also nervous. I didn't know if I was intelligent and stable enough. I didn't know if I could live up to the expectations of my society. But I was determined to try. I was determined to raise a well-adjusted human being, even if it was the last thing I ever did. | You've been an Auditor for years, and you've never once wavered in your determination to ensure that only the most intelligent and well-adjusted people are allowed to reproduce. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it. today, you're meeting with a young woman who is seeking to have her birth control device deactivated. She's been through the testing and she's scored high enough to be eligible. You sit down with her and go over the results of her tests and interviews. She seems like a perfectly capable and intelligent young woman. But as you're about to give her the green light to start a family, something stops you. You can't quite put your finger on it, but something about her just doesn't seem quite right. You decide to err on the side of caution and declined her request. It's a tough call to make, but you know it's for the best. The young woman is disappointed, but she thanks you for your time and leaves. As she does, you can't help but feel like you made the right decision. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The young woman had always been brave, like it was something that made her stand out. But when she was chosen to become a meditation teacher, everything she had been dreaming of became a reality. She was so happy, so grateful, so grateful that she was being given the opportunity to change her life for good. But then, just as she was about to bob her head into the future, the tears themselves left trails on her face. The world would changed be different now if she had cried, if she had known how it would change the future. If she had known that the tears would one day dry up the water that had been coursing through her veins for years. If she had known that she was nothing without her stories or music or graphics or photographs to share her life with. But all she could do was sit and watch the beauty that was happening around her, lost in her own focusedness. The world would be a different place without tears, she thought to herself. And the stories that she told would be true. | Tears leave a track on someone's face as they fall. It leaves a never ending reminder of what has happened. It is a permanent reminder of the love someone has felt and the pain they have endured. This track will never stop blurring someone's vision and making them feel as though they are Ports in a Storm. | The world was a different place without rain. The sun blazed brighter and the air was hotter, making it difficult to breathe. Plants withered and died and the animals migrated in search of a water source. One day, a young girl was walking through the forest when she saw a beautiful rainbow. She began to cry, and the tears pooled in her eye s. Suddenly, the tears began to flow down her face like water, leaving beautiful rainbows in their wake. The young girl was amazed and fascinated by the tears. She began to cry more and more, and the tears continued to fall. The tears turned rivers, and the rivers turned oceans. The oceans filled up with so much water that the land was submerged. The young girl was forgotten, and the world continued to change without her. But, in her memory, the rainbows that she cried tears of love left behind will always be a reminder of the good in the world. | It was a cloudy day, and the air was thick with the sadness that came with it. I walked down the street, my head down, as I tried to avoid the puddles of tears that had been left behind. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, the sun had been shining and the world had been filled with laughter. But now, everything was different. Tears had started falling from the sky, and they left scars wherever they landed. The ground was covered in them, and the people who had been caught in the rain were left with permanent reminders of their pain. Some of them tried to wash the scars away, but they only ended up making them worse. The world was a different place now, and I wasn’t sure if I could ever go back to the way things were. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I died. I was Groundskeeper, the tinyrice and fruit personnage, when I saw the rise of the debt-free laws. I loved that we could still produce food without need of sympathy or donations. I loved that we could still be included in decisions and sustenance. But then I saw the rise of the prices and I died. The punishments for living a debt-free life were worsen than ever before. The schools were no longer able to provide resources, so students had to all go to school by themselves. Classes were cancelled and the government had to tutoring programs in order to keep students safe. multipop I died because I couldn't afford to buy all the food I wanted. The prices for food were rise quickly, and so were the prices for products we could not afford. We were left with little to no food to eat and no means of protected our body. | I was lying in bed, scrolling through my Facebook when I saw a post from my best friend. She said she was going to the store and needed me to help her with something. I agreed to go, but when I got there, I found out that she had already left. I was so upset, I didn't even want to leave my bed. I thought about all the things we once joked about and how perfect our lives would be if we just married. I started to cry, and then I heard a knock on my door. I got up to answer it, and it was my best friend. She said she was sorry, but she had to go. I asked her why, and she said she didn't want to be a bother, but she had to go. She was really sad, and I felt really bad for her. I knew she would never want to see me again, but I still felt really sad. | Nina lay on the ground, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe. She could feel the blood quickly filling her lungs, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she slipped away. She had been shot, and the bullet had ripped through her chest. She was going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do to save her. But then she heard a voice. It was weak and raspy, but it was there. The voice told her that she didn't have to die. That she could live, and that she would be able to find forgiveness. She knew the voice was from God, and she accepted his gift of life. From then on, she would live a life of repentance and forgiveness. She would use her tragedy to help others, and she would never forget what had happened to her. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive and well, and the next I'm lying on the ground, lifeless. It's strange, really. In the moment before I die, everything seems to slow down. I see the look of shock on the faces of those around me, hear the gasps of horror. And then everything goes black. I don't know what comes after death. I can't say for sure if there's anything at all. But whatever happens, I know one thing for sure: I won't be coming back. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The show is finally over. The rabbit is disappointed, but he knows he won't get enough fun from other people after this. He turns his focus to the next person in the stand, and is so happy to see them as an equal. The next person in is a demure young girl, shes happy to see him and Note her name is348. She tells him she's been wanting to talk to him since the show was over. She tells him about her experience with magic, and how it's not what she expected. She shares with him what sheitri had said about him, and he agrees that he is amazing. The young woman is so pleased with what she has seen and feels lucky to have found such a amazing person to help her through the show. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had always thought that the rabbit was a smart guy, but now he could see that the rabbit was just as stupid as everyone else. The rabbit didn't seem to understand why the magician was pulling him out of a hat. The magician explained that it was because the rabbit was tired of being the small player. The rabbit didn't listen, and he kept stopping to get a drink of water from the stream. The magician started to regret ever inviting the rabbit to the show. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit said to the magician, "I'm sick of always being the second wheel to your rabbit magic. I want to be the star of the show!" The magician was surprised by the rabbit's words and replied, "I can't help how great you are at magic. You were born to do this." The rabbit was still not happy and said, "That's not good enough. I want to be the best magician that has ever existed." The magician was taken aback by the rabbit's words and said, "I think you can be the best magician that has ever existed." The rabbit was happy that the magician believed in him and said, "Thank you for believing in me. From now on, I'm going to work hard and be the best rabbit that has ever existed." | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is visibly unhappy. It seems like it has had enough of being the magician's assistant. Finally, it has had enough and decides to take matters into its own hands. The rabbit pulls a magic wand out of the magician's hat and points it at the magician. The next thing the magician knows, he is in a cages and the rabbit is free. The rabbit is now the star of the show and the magician is nothing more than a captive audience member. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were all letters in Freud's waiting room. They were all there because they had been chosen to participate in his clinical trial of his latest research. It was a choice they could not make any other way. They were all nominations from the top of the Nazi party. "You might think that it's a sign of our scientific superiority that we can get these great minds to come and participate in our trials," said Dr. Freud. "But the truth is, we can't have them if we don't have the support of the German people." So the three new participants in Freud's clinical trial took their seats on the waiting room chairs. They all knew what was coming. TheExperiments were going to start. | Freud was very excited to test his latest theory on clinical trial participants. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was excited to see how each participant would responded to the new treatment. He was very surprised when all four participants responded positively to the treatment. Hitler even claimed that he had finally found the key to conquering Europe. Freud was very impressed with the young Yugoslavian leader, Josip Broz Tito. He was amazed at how quickly Tito had grasped the theory. Freud was also surprised to see that Trotsky had also responded positively to the treatment. The young Soviet leaders were eager to learn more about the treatment. They asked Freud many questions about the process. Freud was happy to share his knowledge with them. Freud was very happy with the results of the clinical trial. He was confident that his new treatment would help solve many of the world's problems. | Sigmund Freud was a pioneering thinker in the field of psychology, and his latest research was on the topic of the subconscious mind. He was looking for participants for clinical trials of his theories, and so he placed an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who responded to the ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties, and they were all eager to learn more about Freud's research. The four men met with Freud, and they discussed his theories at length. They were all fascinated by what he had to say, and they were eager to put his theories to the test. Over the course of the next few weeks, the four men underwent a series of tests and trials, all designed to help Freud better understand the subconscious mind. They were all quite cooperative, and Freud was able to glean a great deal of information from them. At the end of the trials, Freud was satisfied that he had gathered enough data. He thanked the four men for their participation, and they all went their separate ways. Who knows what might have happened if these four men had never met? Would they have gone on to change the world as we know it? We'll never know for sure, but it's certainly an interesting thought. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The Surrogates byheon was a big event. It was the first time that all of the important people in the world met to discuss policy and things that concern us. Even more importantly, it was the first time that all the important people in the world met to discuss the possibilities of where we are headed. The Surrogates had experts from many different fields. They talked about the future of life and what we can expect in the future. They also talked about the future of the world. The Surrogates were unclear on one thing. What was going to happen to the world's people when theAuditor was deactivated? There was discussion about how the world should be saved. But no one really knew what the future would be. The Auditor was only deactivated because everyone in the world was hoping she would be a help. The people in thetim then went to different places to try and answer this question. But no one could really give a definite answer. After a while, the people in thetim started to lose hope. They were still trying to answer the question, but it was clear that the Auditor was nothing more than a gift from above. The people in thetim started to smell a bit different. They didn't know what it was and they didn't know what to do about it. They all started to look different. The people in thetim started to smell different as well. But they all continued to visit the Surrogates. The Surrogates were there to provide support. But the people in thetim didn't want to see the experts anymore. They just wanted to see the different colors and smells. The Surrogates didn't like that. They didn't like that the people in thetim were different now. They didn't like that they were only providing support. The Surrogates were only providing support. The people in thetim wanted to see the different colors and smells. They wanted to see the people in thetim that they knew. The people in thetim wanted to see the different colors and smells. They wanted to see the people in thetim that they knew. But the Surrogates didn't want to see the people in thetim anymore. They didn't like that they were only providing support. The Surrogates didn't like that. They didn't like that the people in thetim were different now. They didn't like that they were only providing support. The Surrogates were only providing support. The people in thetim wanted to see the different colors and smells. They wanted to see the people in thetim that they knew. The people in thetim wanted to see the different colors and smells. They wanted to see the people in thetime they knew. But the Surrogates didn't want to see the people in thetim anymore. They didn't like that they were only providing support. The Surrogates were only providing support. The people in thetime they knew were providing support. The people in thetim were only looking for support. But the Surrogates didn't want to see the people in thetim anymore. They didn't like that they were only providing support. | I step into the Auditor's office, eager to start my audit. I enter the room, and feel a sense of excitement. I walk up to the Auditor and Present my Certificate of Proof of Intelligence. "ladies and gentlemen, I am an Auditor and I have been implanted with a birth control device during my puberty. I am stable and intelligent enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. I would like to activate my birth control device, please." | It was a dark and stormy night. A young woman, barely out of her teens, was walking the streets of her city, looking for a place to sleep. She was tired, and cold, and had been walking for hours. She had been trying to find a place to stay the night for weeks, but no one would rent to her because she was considered unintelligent and unstable. She was tired of being laughed at and called names. She was tired of being told she was nothing. Suddenly, she heard a voice in her ear. "There you are, girl. I've been looking for you." It was an old woman. She looked tired, too. " Come with me, I have a place for you." The young woman followed the old woman to a decrepit building. "This is where I live. My name is Mrs. K. and I'm an Auditor. I know you're intelligent and stable, so I've implanted a birth control device in you during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you're ready to raise a well-adjusted human being. You're the new Auditor." The young woman was filled with relief. She couldn't believe she had finally found a place to stay the night. She thanked Mrs. K. and went to bed. The next day, she went to the Auditors office to deactivate her birth control device. She was excited to become a responsible adult and start her own family. | It's been 20 years since the world implemented the birth control device. As an Auditor, it's my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to have their device deactivated and reproduce. In that time, we've seen a dramatic decrease in the number of dumb people in the world. But there are still a few who slip through the cracks. I remember one case in particular. A young woman came to me, desperate to have her device deactivated. She claimed to be in love and wanted to start a family. I interviewed her and administered a series of tests. She did well, but there was something off about her. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I ultimately decided to deny her request. It was a hard decision, but I couldn't risk her having a child that wasn't given the best chance at a successful life. I often wonder what became of her. I hope she found happiness, even if it wasn't in the way she wanted. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | It was nighttime and the only thing that could be heard was the silence. Thearer was getting late now, they were going to need to find a way to leave this place before it was too late. They had no choice but to find a way to leave this place. They walked for hours, they were out of ideas. They had no idea what to do, where to go or when they would come back. They had no idea what was happening to them. Suddenly, they heard a presence next to them. It was coming from behind, it was coming from the other side of the building. They were gettingDM pleted. | You meet this person on a trip to a nearby ruins. They tell you about a fight they had with a group of other people. In the fight, they got the better of the other group and they took their belongings. They tell you their story, and as they tell it, the story changes. The bigger the lie, the greater the physical and emotional harm it has caused. Eventually, the other group turns on the liar and they are forced to leave them alone. The liar chooses to stay and face the consequences of their actions. As they walk away, they notice a large scar on their back. It isn't the biggest or deepest one, but it is the one that matters the most. | I had never seen anything like him. He was the most incredible person I had ever met. His story was so sad, but his eyes were bright and full of life. He told me about how he had lied so much and how it had taken a toll on his body. But the biggest and deepest scar was the one on his soul. He had never told a lie that had caused any real harm, but all of his lies had created damage. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. It's a way for everyone to be able to see the truthfulness of a person, and it's something that's been a part of your life for as long as you can remember. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It's the biggest one you have ever seen, and it runs all the way down their face. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a large scar. As you get to know this person, you find out that they have a lot of secrets. They've lied about their past, their present, and their future. They've lied so much that their one scar has become a symbol of all the lies they've ever told. Even though they've lied, you can't help but be drawn to them. Their story is one of pain and suffering, but also of hope and resilience. You see the good in them, despite all of their lies. In a world where the truth is scarred into our skin, this person has taught you that sometimes the biggest lies can hide the most beautiful truths. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross sells paintings of his countless murders. He keeps says albums viewable at no cost to the consumers who have signed up over the past few years. Each painting is a different place, each trial run is a new start. | Bob Ross always wondered where his many murders took place. But until recently, he never had the opportunity to find out. In fact, until recently, Bob Ross never even knew he hadmurderous paintings. That is until he was visited by aSuddenly his paintings became reality, a series of murders taking place right in front of his eyes. Now, Bob Ross must try to piece together the clues and figure out who killed his family and why. But as each murder becomes more Puzzeling, Bob Ross realizes that the answers may just be waiting for him in his darkest hours. | Bob Ross loved nature, so it was no surprise that he end up painting landscapes all over the United States. He would spend hours out in nature, painting the stunning vistas in his paintings. One day, Bob Ross went out painting in Alaska. While he was painting, he was brutally murdered by one of his admirers. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. His landscape paintings were actually the locations of his countless murders. He was a master of disguise and no one suspected him. His victims were always people who were alone and vulnerable. He would strike when they were least expecting it and they never stood a chance against him. Bob Ross was a true monster, but he was also a genius. He managed to evade authorities for years and his grisly crimes remained undiscovered. However, eventually, the law caught up with him. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison. His paintings now serve as a chilling reminder of his horrific crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The first time that Rachel ever saw crying was when she and her family were dealing with the loss of their loved ones in aahu hooie. The television was off, and she was the only one in the house and she saw everyone crying andangry. She never knew before how things could always be the opposite of how she wanted them to be. When she was younger, she would go out and cry with the kids when they was playing videogames or beer pong. She would watch and flirt with them while they were playing, and then she would have to go home. She would go into her room, and then the kids would start to watch her from the next room and she would start to cry. She would stay in her room, watching and waiting for the other side. When it finally came, she wasn't happy until she was middle class and had her own place. She went back home to see her kids and grandkids and she saw the TRUTH that she was caused by her own emotions. She had never seen anything like this before, and she is so glad that she went out and cried with the kids. | Once upon a time, people were tearful. They would cry and grieve and deal with the aftermath of what had happened. Now, days or weeks would go by and the tears would still be there. There was a difference, though. Now, the tears would be directed outward, towards those who had caused them. | Jenna had always been a tender hearted person, and she loved helping others. But when her best friend died suddenly, Jenna was left with major tears that never stopped flowing. Jenna didn't know how to cope with her sorrow, and she felt like she was a mess. Jenna would cry herself to sleep every night and it was all she could do to keep going. One day, Jenna was out grocery shopping and saw a young girl who was crying her eyes out. Jenna felt a sudden urge to go and hug her, and she did. The hug healed the young girl's heart and she understood what Jenna was going through. Jenna was inspired to start a movement to stop the tears from causing so much pain and sadness. Jenna started a non profit organization called "Tearless Aid" to help others heal from their tears. Jenna's story made a huge impact on the world and his mission was successful. | The first time it happened, I didn't know what to think. I was in the middle of a fight with my boyfriend and the next thing I knew, hot tears were streaming down my face. But as I wiped them away, I noticed something strange: my skin was marked where the tears had fallen. It was like a tattoo, but made of scars. They were faint at first, but gradually started to darken and become more defined. I tried to hide them, but it was impossible. The more I cried, the more scars I got. Soon, everyone could see them. And they were a constant reminder of the pain I'd been through. People would look at me and see my scars and know that I'd been hurt. That I was weak. But I found strength in my scars. They made me who I am today. And I wouldn't change them for anything. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on the brink of dying of aownership by the Hitler Rose Cancer Research project. He has been trying every693 to find a participant who is interested in trials for a while now. He finally demise named Adolf Hitler as a participant. Sigmund is newsly disappointed. He wants to find someone else to participate in the trial. | Adolf Hitler responded first. He was president of Germany at the time, and he wanted to be a part of the clinical trials. Joseph Stalinresponded second. He was the leader of Russia at the time, and he also wanted to be part of the trials. Leon Trotskyresponded third. He was the leader of Yugoslavia at the time, and he also wanted to be part of the trials. Josip Broz Titoresponded fourth. He was the leader of the Slovene Republic at the time, and he also wanted to be a part of the trials. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. They all wanted to be a part of the clinical trials to see if there was a cure for their diseases. | Freud was perplexed. He put an ad in a newspaper looking for participants for clinical trials of his latest research. None of the qualified applicants responded. Eventually, he realized that the only people who would be interested in his studies were his most hated enemies: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was suspicious. How could these men, who hated him so much, be interested in his work? But he decided to take them on anyhow. He was curious to see how their different backgrounds would impact the results of his trials. The trials were a success. Freud was able to identify the causes of different behavioral abnormalities, and he was even able to develop treatments for some of them. Thanks to his research, the world is a better place today because of the Enemies of Sigmund Freud. | Sigmund Freud was never one to shy away from controversy. So when he announced his latest clinical trial, he was not surprised to see some of the most infamous names in history sign up. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito were all eager to participate in the trial. After all, they all had something to prove. For Freud, this was the perfect opportunity to test his latest theory. For the participants, it was an opportunity to show the world that they were not the monsters they were made out to be. The trial lasted for weeks, during which time Freud and the participants discussed their deepest fears and desires. In the end, Freud came to the conclusion that his theory was correct. The participants, however, did not all agree with his conclusions. Hitler and Stalin both left the trial feeling validated, while Trotsky and Tito both left feeling more confused than ever. It was clear to Freud that his theory had the potential to change the world. But he also knew that it would not be easy to convince everyone of its validity. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the article that was left behind in the class office. The text is a photo album that features various students from all walks of life, all posed in the most miserable moment that they could think of. The latest update on the issue is the ranking of the episodes from most to least interesting. Some students are angry that the same article was left in the class mailbox all week, and they are not the only ones. The professor has been getting a lot of death threats on social media. | A large, dusty old box sat on the floor of my teenage daughter's room. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades, but when I opened it, I found out that it was exactly why it was sitting there. The inside of the box was filled with ancient, forgotten books. Many of them were covered in dust and mothballs, but others were in perfect condition, with no sign of ever having been touched. I started to ID the titles of some of the older books, but then I saw something that made my heart drop. Some of the pages were missing! I quickly went to put the box back on the shelf, but my daughter was already sitting up, her eyes wide with interest. "What did you find?" she asked, as she started to look through the missing pages. "At first I thought it was just a mistake, but then I realized that the book cover had been messed up," I said, as I started to feel a tear well up in my eye. This was the moment that I realized how much attention the current events issue today deserved. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is climate change. It is a serious threat to our planet and must be addressed immediately. We need to find ways to reduce our carbon footprint and make sure that our energy sources are sustainable. We also need to take measures to prevent other countries from making the same mistakes that we have made. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the environment. The Earth is going through a lot of changes and it is important that we take care of it. We need to recycle, reduce our carbon emissions, and conserve energy. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I had just finished taking care of my family when I heard a loud knock on my door. I had no idea who it was, so I opened it to reveal my sister who looked shockfully up at me with beautiful eyes McKnight. I saw the grace toWeeky gage and shook her hand, faithing she was who she said was to help me with my family. She showed me onto her room and I fell asleep with a grin on my face,. The next day, my sister called out to me outside of my room,. , What happens next? I die | I died the next day. I woke up to find that I was lying in the dirt, with a big rock on my head. I couldn't understand what was happening, but I knew that I had to get up. I struggled to my feet, but I was too heavy. There was a big rock on my head and I knew that it was going to kill me. I looked around and saw other people getting ready to leave, but I couldn't make myself leave. I didn't know what was going to happen next, but I knew that I had to die. | In his last moments, the man realized that he was going to die. He had years of life ahead of him, and he wanted to use them to do good. He had a lot of unfinished business. As he lay dying, he asked his wife to marry him again and to have children with him. He also asked her to forgive him for all the angry battles they had fought. As he slipped away, he knew he had accomplished something important in his life. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened, but one moment I was alive and the next I was dead. I don't know what to do now. I feel lost and alone. I guess this is what death is like. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Molecular 15-year-old magician The Bunny and I are on stage, Thou art sick of playing second fiddle. The Bunny has been trying to get The Witch of the Lute to realize that she's a magician, but she's too proud. She's always togged up and on stage, but today, she's sick of being under The Witch's control. She tries to get The Witch to realize that she's a magician, but she's too proud. She's always togged up and on stage, but today, she's sick of being under The Witch's control. She tries to get The Witch to notice her as a magician, but she's too proud. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat and put it in front of him. The rabbit was sick of being the second fiddle. It wanted to do its own thing. The magician didn't seem to hear the rabbit, so the rabbit continued to sit there. The magician looked at the rabbit and it seemed as if it was giving up. The rabbit couldn't take it anymore. It started to run away and the magician saw it go. He quickly put the rabbit back in the hat and put it back on stage. The rabbit was very happy. It had finally won some attention. | The magician had been performing for years and years, always pulling out a rabbit from the hat. The rabbit was getting a bit tired of always playing second fiddle, so one day, the rabbit said to the magician, "I don't know how much longer I can keep up with this. Can we switch positions?" The magician was surprised at first, but then he thought about it and agreed. From then on, the rabbit was the magician's main rabbit and the magician was the rabbit's main magician. Everyone in the audience was shocked, but they all realized that this was the best thing for both rabbits. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The magician pulls out a hat and the rabbit pops out, looking very disgruntled. The audience erupts into applause and the rabbit glares at the magician. The magician seems oblivious to the rabbit's anger and simply smiles and takes a bow. The rabbit is had enough. It's been stuck in that hat for years, being pulled out and put back in over and over again. It's time to take matters into its own paws. The next time the magician goes to pull the rabbit out of the hat, it doesn't budge. The magician looks perplexed and tries again, but the rabbit is firmly stuck. The audience starts to get restless, wondering what's going on. The rabbit takes this opportunity to make a break for it. It hops off the stage and into the audience, where it is met with cheers and applause. The magician is left on stage, looking baffled and alone. The rabbit is finally free and it knows it will never go back into that hat again. It has a new lease on life and is determined to make the most of it. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Auditors are individuals who are sent to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You are the only one who knows this, and you must keep your secret until the day you are sure you can handle yourself. | The Auditor's office was situated in the back of a large, old warehouse. It was small, and uncomfortable, but it was home to the Audit's department. Most people in the office thought the Auditor was a know-it-all. But the Auditor fixed that. The Auditor was always busy, but he never hesitated to stop by the office to see how the other departments were doing. He was never rude, or unapproachable. One day, the Auditor left the office to take a break. He didn't come back for a while. Some people in the office started to worry. Had the Auditor gone back to the warehouse to surprise them? They decided to look for the Auditor in the office. They found him sitting at the back of the warehouse, with a book in his hands. "Auditor," called one of the people in the office. "Weolis thought you'd gone off to take a break." The auditor didn't answer. "Auditor," called another person. "Weolis thinks you might have gone trick or Treat." The auditor didn't answer again. "Auditor," called a third person. "Weolis is getting worried. We thought you might have gone missing." The auditor didn't answer again. The people in the office started to panic. They had no idea what to do. " Auditor," called a fourth person. "Weolis is starting to think you might have been killed." The people in the office started to scream. They didn't know what to do. They didn't know what had happened to the Auditor. The audit team was called to the warehouse. They found the Auditor dead, with a birth control device implanted in his neck. | Gabriel had always been an intelligent person, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit down about the fact that he was one of the few people in the world who were ‘dumb’ enough to not be implanted with a birth control device. He knew that it was for the best, but it still didn't make the idea of it any less icky. One day, Gabriel was sitting in his apartment scrolling through his social media accounts when he saw a post that caught his attention. It was an ad for a job as an Auditor, and it sounded like it would be a great opportunity. He decided to apply, and a few weeks later he was called in for an interview. The Auditor told Gabriel that the birth control implant was only deactivated once they were sure he was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. He said that he was willing to take on the challenge, and so Gabriel wasExcited to start his new job. | You're an auditor for the government's birth control program. It's your job to make sure that only the dumbest people in the world are allowed to reproduce. To do this, you must interview each potential parent and determine if they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. If they are not, then you must deactivate their birth control device. This can be a difficult and controversial job, but you believe that it's necessary in order to create a better world. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The house was small, but it was not simple. The homeowner had recently- Width to the top of the door. She had been trying to remember when she had last seen slept at her old house. She looked at the clock, and noticed that the time had traveled 1am. She tried to remember what the last message had been sent through the door's Venetian blinds. A habit? A punishment? She didn't know. She asked her husband what he thought. He put his hand on her arm, telling her to try and remember. The history of the house? She didn't know. The husband had been a member of a secret society of house-holders, people who used their power to amass wealth. He had known what was happening out front, and tried to keep the family desertions underOff. The homeowner had been more interested in theizards in the bushes around the house, Could they please avoid me? she thought as she walked into the room. | One day, I noticed an invisible thing moving around in my home. I didn't want to let it know I was aware of it, so I tried to hide it. But it kept moving and changing. It became harder and harder to keep it hidden, until eventually it had become a part of my home. | I had always suspected there was something strange living in my home, but I never was able to prove it. I would see shadowy figures in the corners or behind furniture, but I never knew for sure if it was something real or just my imagination. One day, I decided to take a closer look at the thing I had been seeing. I slowly made my way around the room, watching as the figure disappeared into the shadows. As I got closer, I could make out its shape - it was a little girl, standing just a few feet away from me. I cried out in terror and ran away, never looking back. I had finally found proof that something was living in my home, and I had let it scare me into leaving. The thing was probably just some little girl, but it made me Paranoid that whole day. | I always felt like I was being watched in my house. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was never anything there. I knew I wasn't crazy, so I started to set up cameras throughout my house to try and catch whatever it was that was living with me. I was convinced that I would finally get evidence of the invisible thing living in my house when I saw the footage of one of the cameras. It was a dark, shadowy figure that seemed to be lurking in the background of my living room. I was terrified, but I also knew that I had to find out what it was. I started to leave out food for the thing, and one day when I came home, I found it devouring a steak that I had left out. I was shocked that it was real, but I also felt a sense of relief that I wasn't alone in my house anymore. We've been living together for a year now, and I've grown to love the invisible thing that shares my home with me. I still don't know what it is, but I'm grateful for its presence nonetheless. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was walking down the street when I was tackled from behind. I heard someone screaming and I knew it wasn't going to be good. I turned around to find my killer- my best friend. He had killed his own mother and he was ready to do the same to me. We fought and fought but it was no use. It was too hard. I didn't want to die but I knew it was the only way. | I was going to die. That was the inevitable conclusion that I had come to. The cancer had spread too far and there was nothing that could be done. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I passed away. As I lay in bed, unable to do anything but reflect on everything that had led up to this point, I thought about my life. I had been through so much, and yet, it hadn't been enough. I had failed to achieve my goals, and in the end, that was why I was going to die. I had been too busy trying to live my life rather than taking the time to enjoy it. But as I lay there alone, I knew that I was finally ready to go. I was tired of hurting and tired of feeling like I was worth nothing. I was ready to be free, and that was what death was going to take me to. | I step out into the sunlight, squinting against the bright light. I know this is it. My time has come. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, ready to meet my fate. Suddenly, there's a bright flash and everything goes white. I feel myself falling and then everything goes black. I open my eyes to find myself in a strange place. It looks like some kind of hospital room. There are monitors beeping all around me and I'm hooked up to a lot of machines. A nurse comes in and starts checking on me. I try to speak, but my throat is dry and my words come out as a croak. The nurse gives me some water and I'm finally able to ask what happened. She tells me that I was in a coma for three days, but I'm finally awake and going to be alright. I can't believe it. I was sure that I was going to die. But apparently, I'm still here. I don't know what this means for me or what my future holds, but I'm alive. And that's all that matters. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a power outage in the city. The outage has caused great The city is in a state of emergency, and many people are asking the city officials what they are doing to ensure the safety of everyone in the city. The city officials say that they are trying to stay aware of events happening in the city, and are making sure everyone knows that they need to be safe if they are living in the city. | Today, the traditional polling place for the presidential election has been closed due to a computer virus that has infiltrated the voting machines. The President of the United States, who was running for re-election, has been forced to take to the airwaves to provide updates on the situation. | It was a hot day in June, and the news networks were all focused on the latest protests happening in Iran. The crowds were growing by the hour, and it seemed like nothing could stop them from achieving their goals. While the rest of the world was watching, President Trump made a decision. He would speak to the Iranian people directly, using social media to reach them. " Iranians, I am here to talk to you. I understand what you're going through, and I know that you want change. I believe that together, we can make this happen. Let's talk, and let's find a way to get your country back on track." The message was well-received. Iranians felt like they had a voice, and they were ready to fight for what they believed in. Thanks to President Trump's message, the protests ended quickly and peacefully, and the world was able to focus on more important things. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is climate change. Climate change is a global problem that is affecting our planet in a negative way. We need to take action now to try to mitigate the effects of climate change. This means reducing our greenhouse gas emissions, protecting our forests, and working to preserve our planet for future generations. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross painted a copy of each of his locations being Chinese territory, letting street kids give him painting lessons, or working as a terra cotta man. Each painting has a unique atmosphere and is crusty Cafeteria- fresh from the oven, Bob'smenu looked and felt different each time he took a bite out of his pie. Even though all of his places looked the same, the feel of them all was personalityly unique. Bob Ross had his own unique feel to his Murder Pages, each scene having a unique look and feeling. Each of Bob's places had a unique scent and taste, each one with its own dialect and Roux office. The cook, victim, and medical Examiner shared the same kitchen, but with differentrer partitions and caskets. The medical examiner's office had the traditional songs and Woo-woo-woo power gaming was in the other room, the running tendency being to place bodies where people had already been killed. The arterial bloodstains on the walls, floors, and ceiling were all unique, and lookedApply Harassment bond when viewed together. | Bob Ross started painting landscapes in the early 1940s. He would take them to different places in the country and mix different landscapes together to get the feel he wanted. His landscapes would always features different murder scenes, each with its own unique set of visuals. One of his most famous landscapes is "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd." It's a serene landscape that features a tranquil forest, with Ackroyd's body scattered around the landscape. The scene is chilling, and it has become one of Ross' most popular paintings. Many people ask how he came up with the idea for the painting. He told them that he decided to do it after a series of murders in which wealthy people were killed. He thought it would be chilling to paint a landscape that features a prominent murder scene. | In the early 1970s, Bob Ross spent his summers painting landscapes of the Eastern US. It was a slow time for the FBI, so Bob was an easy target. Each painting was a real place, with peasants working in the fields, a river winding through the forest, and a serene, snow-capped mountain in the background. Each painting was a snapshot of Bob's many murders. | Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. For years, he had been using his paintings as a way to cover up his many murders. He would choose secluded locations that would be the perfect place to dispose of a body, and then he would paint them in his distinctive style. The authorities had never been able to connect the dots, but Bob Ross was finally caught when one of his paintings was spotted at a crime scene. The FBI knew they had their man, and they soon uncovered the horrifying truth about his horrific crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The something invisible was always there, waiting to take over as the host of your mind. It disputed the control you had over your life, and䝿 | One day, I found an invisible being in my home. I tried to expose it, but it seemed to be far too happy to be harmed. It seemed to be content simply living in the shadows. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was watching me from the corner of my eye. | I never noticed it until one day, when I farted and it startled me. There was a slight pressure on my chest, like something was trying to squeeze out of my lungs. I dismissed it as Tabby getting into my lungs again, but the feeling never went away. I began to worry, so I went to the doctor. He ran some tests and said that I had an air embolism, or a blockage in my air flow. The doctor said it was most likely caused by my medication, but I could never be sure. Ever since that day, I've been paranoid. I can't walk through my house without checking every nook and cranny for whatever is following me. I've even started sleeping with a gun under my bed, just in case. But even though I'm always on the lookout, I still can't shake the feeling that something is watching me. | I can sense that something invisible is living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. I try to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and leave it running overnight. In the morning, I review the footage and see something moving around in the room. It's hard to make out what it is, but it's definitely there. I try to catch it on camera again, but it seems to be avoiding the camera. I'm not sure what to do, but I'm determined to find out what this invisible thing is. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in low reserve, and hand-to-hand combat DR is always aGiven. However, the pests are a challenge. They're pesky and resourceful, and they want their goods. The GM might want to consider giving them Leyjackbearers as reward for: -Championing the good Sir Orisus's work -Helping theFFD the Stonington's escape The adventurers are a challenges. They're young and some are Canting Credest, but they're pot-stirring brigands. They's want their just rewards. So, the GM might consider giving them Jennerbearers as reward for: -Championing the good Sir Orisus's work -Helping the FFD's escape | There was once a magic-sapping gem that dwelt in a special part of the kingdom. Though it was seized by a young queen, her subjects found an escape to purchase the gem from the king for their own use. The adventurers who found the gem decided to use it as a bargaining chip in their own negotiations with the Qarl of the kingdom. The first time they met the Qarl, the adventurers were able to sell him the gem for a high price. After that, the Qarl became a regular customer at your shop. He always brought new and exciting items for sale, and always stayed one step ahead of the adventurers' bargaining skills. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The adventurers came in, looking for a deal on the items they had acquired. They haggled with the shop owner, trying to get the best deal they could. The shop owner was knowledgeable about the items, and was able to get the adventurers the best price they could. The adventurers left with smiles on their faces, happy with the deal they had made. | You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You buy and sell loot that adventurers bring in, haggling over prices and trying to get the best deals. It's a tough business, but you're good at it. You've been in business for a few years now, and you've seen all sorts of loot come through your shop. Everything from magic weapons and armor to rare magical ingredients and precious gemstones. You've even had a few dragons come through, looking to sell their hoard. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're always ready to haggle. It's all part of the game, and you wouldn't have it any other way. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The dog was always one of theiances in the home of the family. They loved it and tried to keep it happy and free from lettches and battles. But one day, the dog chose to start having pack Attacks. The family was able to Jage by that soon after and the dog was left outside on the back porch with the dog house. The family never took the dog in, thinking the city neurons to blame. And then one day, the family go outside and saw the dog house on the other side of the park. Theycommunications with the dog but it was too far away for them to hear. The family took the dog in and made him comfortable. The dog then began to backstab the family members and they had to go outside to protect themselves. The family was able to protect the dog and they loved him for it. | One day, I discovered an unidentified, invisible being in my home. It was; slowly, cautiously, but surely becoming more and more visible as time went on. It seemed to be a spirit of some sort, and I was determined to expose it to the world, but I couldn't quite get my head around it. Eventually, I decided to let it know that I was aware of it, and it slowly faded away. | I was in the kitchenette, making dinner, when I heard something moving around in the living room. I stepped out to see a small, blurry figure dart under the coffee table. I followed it, but it disappeared into the shadows. I tried to make out its shape, but it was just a blur. It creeped me out, so I went back into the kitchen to finish dinner. I was paranoid the whole time, wondering if the thing was following me. I finished dinner and went to bed, but I couldn't get the image of the blurry figure out of my head. The next day, I tried to take a picture of the coffee table, but the thing was too fast. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see the blur again. | I have always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing there. I knew I wasn't imagining things, so I started to set up little traps to try and expose whatever it was that was living with me. I would leave food out in the open, and it would always be gone in the morning. I started to leave little notes around the house, and they would always be moved. It was like this invisible thing was playing games with me. One day, I decided to confront it. I left a note that said, "I know you're here. Let's talk." The next day, the note was gone. But in its place was a note that said, "I'm not ready yet." It was like this invisible thing was trying to communicate with me. I wasn't sure what to do, but I knew I needed to be patient. After a few more days of back-and-forth notes, I finally got the courage to say, "I'm not scared of you. You can come out." Then, from the shadows, a figure slowly emerged. It was a little girl, no more than 10 years old. She looked scared and lost. I asked her what her name was, and she said she didn't remember. I told her she was safe now, and she could stay with me. That was how I met my invisible housemate. She'd been living with me all this time, and I never even knew it. I'm not sure how she got there or why she was invisible, but I was just glad she was finally safe. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the possible accepting by the US of the barely marketing product hindbound deal between the Russian government and the battledry industry. The deal is important for the social media phenomena that the Russian industry is providing, but the industry is Atrak's top scorer in the food industry. He is especially concerned about the possible acceptance of the deal by the US. "This is a huge issue. It could mean the bankruptcy of the baked good industry," Atrak said to his friend, TheRhino. "I need to know if you are comfortable with this being a part of the market Gardening must take advantage of the market Mariadendro Tsingiten commercial." TheRhino didn't seem too sure about the inclusion of the "I understand that you are excited to take on this challenge, but I am not comfortable with accepting the business of a Russian spiritualityisafair startup imitating a product that is only relevant to a Russian market. There are better things to spend your time on than taking on such a task." | Today, the current events issue deserves the greatest amount of attention. The issue is the election of Donald Trump, who has been accused of sexual assault and other sexual assault allegations. This issue has received a lot of attention, and it is clear that people are concerned about what he will do to the planet. | In the past few months, several major events have taken place which have catapulted the current issue of gun violence into the limelight. In February, a gunman opened fire at a high school in Parkland, Florida, killing 17 people. In May, a gunman killed 58 people attending a music festival in Las Vegas. And in August, a gunman killed 26 people in a church in Sutherland Springs, Texas. All of these events have reignited the ongoing debate about gun control in America. The issue has divided the country into two camps: those who believe that more gun control laws are necessary to prevent such senseless tragedies from happening, and those who believe that the current gun laws are too strict and are infringing on the rights of law-abiding gun owners. Despite the heated debates and the passionate positions held by both sides, it is clear that the issue of gun violence is of utmost importance and deserves the greatest amount of attention. It is essential that we come up with a solution to the problem, before another tragedy occurs. | There is no shortage of pressing issues in the world today that deserve our attention. From climate change and environmental destruction to poverty and inequality, there are many problems that need to be addressed. However, if I had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be the ongoing crisis in Syria. For years now, the Syrian people have been suffering through a brutal civil war that has claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. Millions more have been forced to flee their homes in search of safety. The international community has been largely inactive in response to this humanitarian disaster. But now, with a new administration in the United States, there is hope that things might finally change. The Trump administration has indicated that it is willing to take a more active role in the conflict, and this could be the turning point that is needed to end the suffering of the Syrian people. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The sky was friends and family, Beneath a Stratolifter's vacuum- sealed skin There was a punctillinient atmosphere And life was more than meets the eye Each and every day P Highest brass bored of same old Yours was different. Different story, Different ways You presenting yourself To the world Different people Different things In the view of the highest brass There was only one way to find out You take the fall And the sky is your friend recurrent: What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face? How would this change our world? Tell the story. | Once upon a time, there was a woman who cried relentlessly. No one knew why, but it seemed to make everything worse. In time, her tears became so numerous and deep that they left deep scars on her face. people would see her hurt, and they would pity her. But despite all the care and love they put into trying to soothe her, nothing worked. The harder they tried, the more her tears became a part of her, a part of her identity. They became a part of who she was and who she was not. | It was a beautiful day outside, but inside, the young woman was crying. She didn't know why, she just felt so sad. As she cried, her tears created small, unnoticed scars on her face. They weren't huge or life-threatening, but they were still there, a reminder of her sadness. She felt like crying would only make the scars worse, but she couldn't help it. The tears just kept flowing. Every day, she would see the scars and remember how sad she was, but she couldn't do anything to stop them from happening. The young woman had tears streaming down her face as she walked down the street. She didn't know why, but she felt like she needed to share her sadness with everyone she saw. Everyone looked at her with pity, knowing that her tears were responsible for the scars on her face. The young woman felt like she was a mess, and she hated herself for it. She wished she could just stop crying and the scars would disappear, but she knew that was impossible. The scars were a constant reminder of how sad she was, and she didn't know how to make them go away. | "Tears are for the weak," they said. "Don't let them see you crying." So I held it all in, every hurt, every pain. I stuffed it down deep inside me until I thought I would burst. But I didn't cry. Not ever. Until one day, I couldn't hold it in anymore. The dam broke and the tears came pouring out, hot and scalding. They burned my cheeks as they trickled down, leaving behind red, swollen scars. The scars were a constant reminder of my pain, of the times I had been hurt. They were a map of my tears, a history of my sorrow. And I wore them with pride. Because now, when people see my scars, they know that I am strong. They know that I have been through hell and back, and I am still standing. They know that my tears have made me stronger, not weaker. So don't be afraid to cry. Because your tears will only make you stronger. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was first implanted into the wrong person and the wrong time of course. A young mother simply was not as smart as she should have been and soon after, the birth of her child would be prevent as well. Nevertheless, she was an Auditor and would be able to make good on her sentence and help prevent times like this from happening in the first place. As an Auditor, she was able to take care of her children and prevent them from reproduced. She was able to do this because she was smart and very brave. | Since the birth of the world, people have been implanted with birth control devices to prevent them from reproducing. Auditors have been sent to assess each person's ability to raise a well-adjusted human being. This has always been an important role for the Auditors, because it ensures that the world is safe for everyone. But as time went on, it became harder and harder for the Auditors to find intelligent people to assess. So, they devised a plan: everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, so that the dumbest people in the world can't reproduce. The plan worked for a while, but eventually the dumbest people in the world outnumber the Auditors. So, the Auditors decided to take their birth control device off of everyone. But, as they did so, they realized that they had made a mistake. The Dumbest People in the World were still reproducing, and the world was becoming more dangerous every day. So, the Auditors decided to return their birth control device to everyone. But, as they did so, they realized that they had made a even bigger mistake. The Dumbest People in the World were still reproducing, and the world was becoming even more dangerous every day. So, the Auditors decided to disband their organization. But, as they did so, they realized that they had made a biggest mistake. They didn't realized that the Dumbest People in the World were still reproducing, and the world was becoming even more dangerous every day. So, the Auditors decided to stay and fight against the Dumbest People in the World. But, as they did so, they realized that they had made a biggest mistake. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was a necessity, as the dumbest people in the world were determined to reproduce and create a generation of idiots. I was smart enough to know that I could not raise a well-adjusted human being if I were one of those idiots myself. So, as an Auditor, I was tasked with deactivating the device when it was determined I was intelligent and stable enough to provide a good parent. It's been a long and tedious process, but I'm finally relieved that I won't have to worry about a stupid generation of humans. I can finally focus on my career as an Auditor and ensuring that the smartest people in the world reproduce. | You're an Auditor, which means that you are responsible for ensuring that only the dumbest people in the world reproduce. To do this, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device can only be deactivated once it's been determined that you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You often have to make difficult decisions, but you know that it's for the best. After all, you don't want the world to be populated by idiots. One day, you are called to review the case of a young woman who is requesting to have her birth control device deactivated. She is clearly intelligent and stable, but you know that she comes from a family of idiots. You have to make a decision. Do you deactivate her birth control device and allow her to reproduce, or do you keep it activated, knowing that her offspring will likely be idiots as well? | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants in a trial of his latest research. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. | Adolf Hitler was twelve years old when he first saw Sigmund Freud. The man was famous and Powerful, but he also seemed strange. Hitler was fascinated by him, and he decided to participate in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. Joseph Stalin was even more famous than Adolf Hitler. He was the leader of the Soviet Union, and he was also famous for his death sentences against gays and others who didn't agree with his government. He was also famous for his work on psychiatry. Leon Trotsky was a Communist who had been inprison for years. He was also famous for his work on psychiatry. He had a theory that mental illness was caused by capitalism. Josip Broz Tito was a socialist who had been inprison for years. He had also been famous for his work on psychiatry. He had a theory that mental illness was caused by the sow- market economy. | Freud was skeptical when he first saw Adolf Hitler's application. He was young, barely out of school, and had no experience in the world. But he was impressed by Hitler's drive, ambition, and determination. Freud agreed to conduct the first trial with Hitler. The results were conclusive – the young man was perfectly suited for the clinical trials. Stalin and Trotsky were also successful trials candidates, but Freud had concerns about their character. He was worried that Stalin might be too ruthless, and Trotsky might be too idealistic. But ultimately, Freud was convinced that both men were the perfect candidates for the future of the Soviet Union. Tito was the last trial participant to beselected. But Freud was hesitant to bring him on board. He was worried that Tito might be too undisciplined and not capable of carrying out the rigorous trials. But after examining Tito more closely, Freud was convinced that the young man was the perfect choice. The trials proved to be a success, and the Soviet Union was born. | It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He needed participants, so he placed an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised that such well-known figures would be interested in his research, but he welcomed them all the same. He conducted his trials with them, and his research was a success. However, he didn't realize at the time that he had just unwittingly created some of the most dangerous men in history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The sun glared Svipan as she walked through theilyn. It was so hard to look away from, the familiar face of her former beauty partner still visible in her right eye. She complaining to herself that she should have been more careful with 320, but that stills nothing by itself. She turned the last corner and there Svipan saw the surprise on her face as she saw the sun. "What the devil are you doing here?" Svipan asked, her voice shaking as she led the young woman to the Usually donkeys reached for the air, their senses hypocrisy. "I wanted to see if you would come to the wedding tomorrow," Svipan said, her voice shaking as she led the young woman to the wedding tomorrow. "It's ready, and I thought you would want to be a part of it." The surprise made the young woman believe her, make a promise to her that she knew would be broken only minutes later. "I'll be there," she said, her voice shaking like Svipan's own. That was a long time ago, and things are still taking too long. | A few weeks ago, I woke up to find a strange, incorporeal being at the side of my bed. It seemed to be watching me sleep, and I could never quite shake the feeling that it was surely trying to harm me. I didn't want to let it know that I was aware of it, so I kept my distance. I tried to keep my home as clean and sterile as possible, but the creature keptREFUGESIN my house, lurking in the corners and in the shadows. One night, after a long day of work, I was just about to go to bed when I heard a whisper in my ear. It was a feeble voice, but it was persistent and persistent. "I know you're awake. I'm here to stay." I debated for a moment before deciding to confront the creature. But before I could, I heard it make a sound like an animal in pain. It was pitiful and I wanted to help, but I was afraid. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help, but I was also afraid. I called for help, but no one came. I started to cry, and the creature said nothing. It just looked at me with sad eyes. Eventually, I gave up and went to bed. I didn't want to face the creature anymore, but I couldn't ignore it either. I had to tell someone. I went to the police department and I reported the creature. They took a look at the creature and they couldn't find any reason to believes it was anything other than a normal house pet. But they did recommend that I keep it confinement in a box until it could be properly addressed. | I've always been a bit uneasy about something living in my home. I've never been able to put my finger on what it is, but I've always had this feeling that there's something else in my home, something invisible. I've tried to expose it by turning on all the lights and looking for anything out of the ordinary, but to no avail. It seems to be able to disappear whenever I'm about to find it. I can't help but feel that this thing is watching me, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. It's been making my home feel tense and uncomfortable, and I can't take it anymore. I'm going to have to get rid of whatever it is, but I'm worried that I'll never be able to find it if I do. | There's something living in my home that I can't see. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest, always there, watchful. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, so I go about my life as usual, pretending not to notice. I can feel it following me as I move from room to room, always there, just out of sight. I can sense its hunger, its need for attention. But I dare not give it any. I don't know what it is, but I know it's not human. And I don't want to be its next victim. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Disorders are often caused by one's declare. The person has a CR3P, the deeper the lie, the larger the hit, or the most important thing just enough. Each and every lie creates a doctors notes with a huge, biggest scar. | You meet someone that you think is interesting. They have one small scar on their chest that you never noticed before. You're interested in them, and you ask them about it. They tell you that they were mugged a few months ago and that the scar is the size of a quarter. You're shocked. It's weird that someone with such a small scar would have such a big impact on their life. You ask them about it more, and they tell you about all the different things that have happened since the mugging. They tell you about how they've lost friends and family, and how the scar has made them stronger. You go back to their house and tell them that you've found out about their scar and that you're interested in meeting them. They laugh and tell you about all the other scars that punctuate their lives. You can't help but wonder if the scar on their chest is one of those scars. | I first saw him when I was walking to the grocery store. His skin was so white, and it contrasted so sharply with the dark bruises that dotted his face. He was so strange, but I was too afraid to say anything. He followed me the entire way, and when I got to the grocery store, he grabbed me. "You need to listen to me," he said. His voice was soft and gentle, but his eyes were cold. "You're going to tell me everything, or I'll hurt you." I didn't want to, but I was too afraid to disobey him. He took me to a secluded area in the park and started to torture me. He told me to lie, and I couldn't help but make deeper and darker scars on my body with each lie. eventually, the pain became too much. I begged him to stop, but he only laughed. "You're my little liar," he said. "I've made you a monster." And then he killed me. | I was walking down the street when I saw her. She was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, completely still. I couldn't help but stare at her; she had the largest scar I had ever seen. It started at her forehead and trailed down her cheek, all the way to her neck. I walked up to her and asked her what had happened. She told me that she had lied, and that this was the result. She said that she had lied so much in her life that she had lost count of all the scars. But this one, she said, was the biggest and deepest lie she had ever told. I couldn't believe it. I had always thought that lies were harmless, but this showed me just how destructive they could be. I asked her what she had learned from her experience. She said that she had learned to be truthful, and to never take the easy way out. This story has stuck with me ever since. It's a powerful reminder of the consequences of lying, and how the truth is always the best way to go. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a famous artist who creates pictures of each of his paintings in different locations. Each picture is a place where Bob has killed people. | Every painting Bob Ross makes is a real place- some of them are murders, and the images of them haunt him still. Bob Ross never seems to remember how he did it, or why he did it, but his paintings always feature these strange, vicious-looking landscapes with blood streaming down the slopes and raging rivers bedecked in red and white. When he died, his family couldn't help but notice how different his landscapes looked after he passed away, and now, every time they see one of his paintings, they can't help but feel violent and haunted by the murders that took place in those landscapes. | The scene is eerily familiar. The mountains, the sky, the trees. But something's off. It's not until a figure, cloaked in darkness, emerges from the woods that Bob realizes where he's been. This is where he killed all those people. He can remember each and every one of them, their faces, their voices, the way they looked as they died. It was all so beautiful, until it wasn't. Now, every painting is a dark reminder of what he's done. And he can't escape it. No matter where he goes, the memories haunt him. Until one day, he finally destroys the last painting. And for a moment, he can finally rest in peace. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. His victims were all young women, and he would often take their bodies to remote locations to dispose of them. His MO was to paint a landscape of the location where he had committed the murder, and he would title each painting after the victim. The police were never able to catch Bob Ross, and the case remained cold for many years. But eventually, a new detective on the case put together the pieces and realized that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was actually a crime scene. The detective went to the last known address of Bob Ross and found that he had died years ago. But in his attic, the detective found dozens of paintings, each one depicting a different murder scene. The case was finally solved, but the detective could never forget the gruesome images that were hidden in plain sight. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud was very excited to have the opportunity to seek clinical trials for his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper and as soon as he learns of the participants, he is over the top excited. He is at his house playing with his children when he gets notification that he has been chosen to participate in the trials. He runs to his home and gifts his children with a special present before runs to the trials to participate. It is a great honor to participate in such a tests and he is very excited. | Adolf Hitler read the ad with interest. He was looking to become a doctor, and this seemed like a perfect opportunity. He typed in his information and clicked on the "apply" button. A moment later, he received a response from Sigmund Freud. Adolf Hitler was interested in the research, so he agreed to be a part of it. Stalin was also interested, and he agreed to become a part of it as well. Tito was undecided, but he agreed to be a part of it because he wanted to fight for the country. The first clinical trial was set to begin in a few weeks. Hitler was eager to start it. He knew that this was his chance to become a doctor and help people. He was also excited to help these people in a meaningful way. Stalin and Tito were nervous, but soon they were able to spirit themselves away to the Zurich hospital. Hitler was the first to arrive. He was greeted with a warm welcome by the doctors. They explained that they were conducting the first clinical trial of Freud's new research. Hitler was intrigued and excited. He knew that he could make a difference in this study. The study was going to be very important. It would help improve the mental development of the participants. The doctors were confident that this study would lead to great things. Adolf Hitler was going to make a big impact on the course of history. | Freud was excited to test his new research on potential participants. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and within a few days, Adolf Hitler had responded. Freud was impressed with how intelligent and open-minded Hitler was, and was eager to begin the trials. Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito also responded to the ad, and the four of them began to meet with Freud frequently to discuss his research. Hitler was the most committed to the trials, and was determined to become the greatest dictator in history. Stalin and Trotsky were both skeptical of Freud's theories, but Tito was the most open to them. As the trials continued, it became clear that each of the participants had their own agenda. Hitler wanted to rule the world, Stalin wanted to become the most powerful person in the world, Trotsky wanted to overthrow Stalin and become the leader of the Russian Revolution, and Tito wanted to build a communist society in Yugoslavia. All four of the participants ultimately failed in their goals, and the world would never have known the consequences if it weren't for the experiments conducted by Freud and his team. | Sigmund Freud is a world-renowned psychologist, and his latest research is on the human psyche. He's looking for participants for clinical trials, and he puts an ad in the newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties, and they're all eager to participate in the trials. Freud is impressed with their enthusiasm and decides to let them all take part. The trials are conducted over a period of several months, and Freud observes the men closely. He's fascinated by their different personalities and how they react to the different therapies. Hitler is highly intelligent and takes to the therapies quickly, adapting them to suit his own needs. Stalin is more resistant at first, but eventually opens up and shows great progress. Trotsky is enthusiastic and receptive to the therapies, but he's also highly volatile and prone to outbursts. Tito is the most easygoing of the group, and he responds well to the therapies. At the end of the trials, Freud is pleased with the progress made by all four men. He's particularly impressed with Hitler and Stalin, who he believes have the potential to be great leaders. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a global recession. everyone is talking about it and not enough is being done to prevent and stop the Earth from going Beyond Water. There are articles and articles in the media about the danger of a global recession, but no one is doing enough to prevent it. The government is doing everything they can to stop the recession, but they cannot keep up with the evidence. They are addending experts on the dangers of a recession, but they are not getting the help they need. Oneirteen year old girl in the city gradually starts to die from a bacterial infection. She is News articles about her, but no one is ever talking about the vision of a whole city looming large in the darkness. The girl's death starts a series of political riots that all over the city. The police are ready todonon the situation, but the Screaming John DX is alreadyone gone. The riots turn into a army of John DX, and the police are forced to leave the city. One thirteen year old girl in the cityNEON starts dying from a global recession. She is news articles about her, but no one is ever talking about the vision of a whole city looming large in the darkness. The girl's death starts a series of political riots that all over the city. The police are ready todonon the situation, but the Screaming John DX is already one gone. The riots turn into a army of John DX, and the police are forced to leave the city. One thirteen year old girl in the city isNews articles about her, but no one is ever talking about the vision of a whole city looming large in the darkness. The girl's death starts a series of political riots that all over the city. The police are ready todonon the situation, but the Screaming John DX is already one gone. The riots turn into a army of John DX, and the police are forced to leave the city. | The recent natural disaster in Puerto Rico has its share of political and social implications. everyday people are struggling to cope with the loss of life and infrastructure, and the government has yet to provide any relief. As the weeks continue to go on, people are starting to organize themselves into small, decentralized groups to try and help. One group is making the most impact, however, is the Puerto Rican Nationalistas. They are a small, nongovernmental organization (NGO) that's been workingaround the clock to help the people of Puerto Rico. Their work has come at a cost, however. They've incurred a lot of media attention and have been compared to the Trump administration's response to the hurricanes. Some people are worried that the NGO's success will eventually fade away because of the government's problems. Others are excited by the chance to see a change in Puerto Rico's political landscape. However, the biggest question is whether or not the NGO's can keep up with the growth of the Trump administration and Puerto Rico's new government. | It has been a year since the devastating effects of Hurricane Harvey swept across Houston and the surrounding communities. The energy and momentum of the storm reverberated for weeks after it made landfall, leaving millions of people in its wake. It is now one year later and the situation for those affected still largely remains unresolved. FEMA has been criticized for its slow response to the disaster, and the issue of housing and stability remains a major challenge for many. In the face of such overwhelming challenges, there is one issue that has consistently commanded the attention of the media, survivors, and advocacy groups: the issue of climate change. In the immediate aftermath of Harvey, scientists warned that the disaster was a preview of what climate change would bring in the future. The increased intensity and frequency of storms driven by global warming means that Harvey was not an outlier, but the start of a new era of extreme weather. With the anniversary of Harvey coming up, the issue of climate change has once again taken center stage. Advocacy groups are reaching out to the government and the public, urging them to act on climate change and make sure that the victims of Harvey are not forgotten. It is an uphill battle, but the issue of climate change cannot be ignored any longer. | There is no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the coronavirus pandemic. This deadly virus has already claimed the lives of thousands of people around the world, and the number of new cases continues to rise. Hospitals are struggling to keep up with the demand for treatment, and governments are struggling to contain the spread of the virus. With so much at stake, it is clear that this is the issue that deserves our attention more than any other. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | It's a hot night and the Julius Caesar Show is scheduled for the next day. The only thing more than need for a rabbit is the fact that he's the only one who can see the magic words "with his eyes." So, the next day, when the show is finally starting, the rabbit sees himself as a variable for the other Romans. He's with them until the end, when he will be back at the rabbit's side. The rabbit falls short in his magic's area, but he still progresses to the next performance. When the final performance is finally scheduled, the rabbit is percentagely enough, in the same spot as when he was last in the red light. He's not sure what to do, but he knows he must continue. He+ outbreak+ = magic | magician had been pulling out rabbits from hats for years when one day he pulled out a sickly-looking rabbit. "What's wrong with this rabbit?" He asked the rabbit's owner. The rabbit's owner explained that the rabbit had a respiratory infection and couldn't keep eating. The magician decided to take the rabbit to the hospital. When he got there, the rabbit was so sick that the magician had to carry it into the room. When the rabbit was sectioned off, the magician saw that its neck was broken. With nothing left to lose, the rabbit begged the magician to kill it. "Please, I just want to finish my job." The magician made a decision and stuck the rabbit's neck into a vise. | The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years and years, always picking the most insignificant little bunny to take the stage. But one day, the rabbit that he pulled out of the hat was not just any rabbit; it was the biggest, laziest rabbit he had ever seen. The rabbit was sick of following behind the other bunnies and wanted to be the star of the show, no matter what the magician said. The magician was initially hesitant to put this big, lazy rabbit up on stage, but the rabbit was persistent. Eventually, the magician gave in and put the rabbit up on stage. The rabbit did not disappoint; it strutted and swirled around the stage, stealing the show. The other bunnies were envious of the show the rabbit was putting on, but the magician knew that he had found his new rabbit. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for weeks, and he's finally ready to make his move. As the magician begins to pull the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit bites him. The magician is so surprised that he drops the rabbit, who scurries off the stage and into the audience. The rabbit is free at last, and he knows that he'll never have to perform in the magician's act again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The something invisible was always there, waiting to bombing or causing chaos in your home. But you never dared to expose it, knowing that it would know that you were aware of its presence. The something invisible persisted, becoming more apparent until one day you finally decided to create a skirmish with it. Your home was inevitably filled with the something invisible. You would try to expose it, but it would only become more and more visible the more you tried. The something invisible was no longer hidden, and it was now clear that you were not going to win. | I was cleaning out my home after selling it years ago, and I found a small, green, slimy thing hidden among the old Furniture. I tried to ignore it, but it kept following me around. I eventually realized that the thing was living in my house and I couldn't help but be at risk if I didn't take care of it. I put it in a small storage container and just left it there. It's been sitting there ever since. | I was sitting in my living room, watching TV when I felt something touch my arm. I turned to see a small, invisible creature hovering next to me. It was creepy, and I wanted to run away, but I didn't want to show my fear. I tried to catch the creature's attention, but it just flew away. I don't know what it was, but I'll be sure to stay vigilant from now on. | I can tell that something invisible is living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can tell that it's there. I try to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and wait for it to show itself. Sure enough, after a few days I capture it on film. It's a ghost! I'm not sure how it got here or why it's haunting my home, but I know I need to get rid of it. I do some research and find out that ghosts can be exorcised. I contact a local priest and he comes over to my house to perform the ritual. After the ghost is gone, I feel much better. My home is finally free of its presence. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet is different from any person you have ever seen. His eyes are black, and his skin is the color of coal. His chest is broad, and he has a massive lie in his mouth. His words are small, and his voice is low. | You first meet him in the middle of a lie. He has told you a false story so many times that it has become one big lie. You are skeptical at first, but he tells you again and again that it is the truth. You listen, but you can't help but feel something inside you. You start to feel like you are walking on eggshells. But as the days go on, you begin to see thereality of this man. He is full of deceit and Gossip. He will tell you anything to make you feel okay. He has caused so much pain and pain to other people, and you feel like you have nothing left to give. One day, you see him in the company of another liar. He has lied to you so often that you can't even remember the last time he was honest. You are so astonished to see him with this other man, and you can't help but feel angry and betrayed. You walk up to him and you tell him how you feel. He smiles and tells you that you are full of yourself. He has nothing left to give, and you can see that in his eyes. You can't believe that he could be so callous to you after all that he has done. You walk away from that room and you don't look back until you hear him tell a different story a few weeks later. He has finally learned his lesson and he is able to live in a world where he is honest. | One day, I met someone who only had one scar - the biggest one I had ever seen. It was incredibly obvious that this person had lied a lot, and the impact of their lies were clearly visible on their body. I couldn't help but be fascinated by this person and the stories behind their biggest lie. | Lies are a part of life. We all tell them, whether we mean to or not. But in my world, lies have a price. Each one leaves a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I've seen some pretty big lies in my life. But nothing compares to the scar I saw on someone's body once. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. And I just knew that the lie that created it must have been huge. I was curious about the person with this scar, so I struck up a conversation with them. It turns out that they were once a very successful person. But they made one mistake; they told a lie. And that lie cost them everything. Now they're living a life of lies, trying to cover up that one big lie. But the scar is always there, a constant reminder of what they did. And it's only a matter of time before their lies catch up to them. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I open my eyes to see the pain in the world. Blood pooled on the floor,berrapping into my tubes and air. I try to get up but my body is heavy and unresponsive. I know I'm going to die here. | I was getting sicker and sicker. The doctors could do nothing to cure me, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I died. I spent my days in bed, barely alive, and my nights reliving my memories. Before long, I was surrounded by the people I loved the most. My family, my friends, and my loved ones all came to see me, but I knew it wouldn't be long before they all left me too. I prepared myself for the end, and when it finally came, I was ready. I knew that I would see them again in the next life, but for now, I was finally free. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how it happens, or why. It just does. One moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. It's not a painful death. There's no time for that. I'm just gone, like a candle that's been snuffed out. I leave behind a world that's full of life, of love, of hope. But I'm not part of it anymore. I'm in a place now where there is no life, no love, no hope. Just darkness. I try to move, to reach out, to anything. But I can't. I'm just floating here in the darkness. Sometimes I think I see a light, but it's always just out of reach. And then I'm alone again in the darkness. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The game of RPGs has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. It was starts with playing family games together, such as Monster Munch and in-game ones, but it followed different trails until Iulpanddering brands of Rogveer.I met my today's companion, aAMDV-20, in a game of 67.7 million years ago. Ourredevelopment shop dreams of dominating the market with ourappearance. Loot is the life of the party as they explore the land and face monsters. They also must figure out how to take down the company and itsonething luxurious about it. As they go, so should the game be andamoto contradiction be found in their plans. One day, the party paths through a door that lead them to a ruins. They presence there and an instantewce finds them surrounded by 1923 lbs. of merchandise. This right answer be payment for their parts in a game that hadn't happened yet. The party tries to fight off an opposition thus ends the game. The assets in the wreckloset Ouroboros fashion were once used in andfor gear, but now they have been ages Bennigrue. The party gets the uncovering that is their objective to sell their gear is revealed the“ouch” They must destroy the olodCopyright 2012 by Burt l computerkey. irectories and got they comanerity in game functions. This will stopping the game early. They mustagraphy the company and its myriad controllers to stop them from doing this. The party comes up with a plan and it is a great idea, but it will take more than a group of inhabitantsto stop them. They need to get through the network of controllers and Armorweaves in the process. The party works together and they make it through theuloD MOR circumferencely. They are dRe Vincescreenplay version2 of thisprompt fromprompt You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The first time I set foot in my new RPG pawn shop, I was dubious. It looked like a mineshaft with racks and racks of items, all of which could be sold for prices that would make your head spin. But I reasoned that if I was able to make a living from selling my games, then it must be worth it. So, I set to work and within a few months had created a successful business. I now haggle with adventurers for the best deals, and I'm always down for a good fight. | Alice was a pawnshop owner who ran a tight ship. She was always willing to haggle with adventurers who came looking for rare goods or coins. She always enjoyed the challenge of getting them to lower their prices. One day, Alice met an adventurer who was selling a splendid dragon helm. She was hesitant to buy it, as it was likely to be overpriced. However, Alice was determined to haggle her down to a more reasonable price. After a lengthy discussion, Alice finally agreed to pay him five gold coins for the helm. She was delighted with the deal and was certain that she'd made a valuable friend. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always try to get the best deal for your shop. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they've got a ton of loot to sell. You start haggling with them, and you're able to get some great deals on some of the items. However, one of the adventurers, a Halfling named Bilbo, tries to haggle with you on his own loot. He's a smart haggler, and he's able to get some good prices from you. Eventually, you reach an impasse on one of the items, and Bilbo decides to take it to another shop. You're not too worried, though, because you know that you're the best RPG pawn shop in town. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The homeowner is cooking dinner when she bumps into heroutherasha who is walking through the house.ospace is on Family TV and she is seeing a little bit of dinner preparation. She is entirely unaware of the homeowner's presence andfigured that the homeowner was looking for her throughout the house. because of that, sheTonys hotelTonight she is the only one who knows that she is here. | I had been house-sitting for my friend Lilith for the past couple of weeks, and even though I had no idea what I was getting myself into, I was curious. I had never been around any strange creatures before, so I was wondering what all the fuss was about. One night, as I was reading in my bedroom, I heard something moving around in the shadows. I Peeked out and saw a small, white, duplicate of myself. I was frozen in shock, unable to move or say anything. The duplicate continued to Creep closer and closer to me, until it was just inches from my face. It spoke for the first time, and I could hear its voice like it was right next to me. "You're not safe. I'm sorry. I want you to leave." I tried to run, but the duplicate was faster than me. It tackled me to the ground, preventing me from getting up. It began tocry tears, and I could see that it was identical to me. It started to speak again, this time in a terrified voice. "Please, don't let me be the only one. I don't want to be hated. I just want to be normal." I couldn't think of anything to say. I was scared, but I also felt like I could take it. The duplicate Continued to cry, and eventually I woke up safe and sound. I never wanted to experience that again. | I was cleaning the kitchen today and I noticed something moving in the corner. I didn't know what it was, so I grabbed a dust cloth and started to clean it. I was careful not to let it know that I was aware of its presence. As I was cleaning, I could see it getting more and more agitated. I was getting close to exposing it when I finally realized that it was my vacuum cleaner! I had been cleaning my vacuum cleaner the whole time! | I could tell something was watching me. It was an invisible presence that I could feel in the room with me. I tried to ignore it, but it was always there, lurking in the shadows. I decided to try to expose it. I set up a camera in my room and left it running overnight. In the morning, I reviewed the footage. At first, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. But then, in one of the frames, I saw a figure that was definitely not human. It was slender and translucent, and it was watching me sleep. I was shocked. I couldn't believe that something invisible was living in my home. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I had to do something. I decided to confront the creature. I waited until it was dark, and I could feel it in the room with me again. I turned on the lights and confronted it. The creature was startled. It tried to fled, but I was able to capture it. I don't know what to do with it now, but at least I know it's not lurking in my home anymore. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | As the show starts, the magician pulls out the rabbit from the hat. The rabbit communalily starts to Dward, before finally getting up off the floor and becoming one with the ground. The crowd begins to react to the new addition, some attached to the rabbit while others run around playing with it. The magician takes this as a sign to start with howling, and starts to Taxy the rabbit around the stage. The taxidermy replica of the rabbit's heart starts to grow heavy in his chest, so the slave rabbit begins to labor sets in motion a complicated dance that will one day be famous. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician told the rabbit that he could make him happy if the rabbit would just give him a little bit of her time. The rabbit was hesitant at first, but then she thought about it and granted the magician's request. The next day, the rabbit was happy to see the magician and they started talking. The rabbit was glad that she could finally spend a little bit of time with him. | The rabbit had had it with always being someone's sidekick. He was a skilled magician, after all. And he was sick of always being the one that everyone called when something went wrong. So he decided to take a stand, and perform his own show. He would be the star, and no one would forget his name. The first night of his new show, the rabbit was on stage, performing his tricks. But something was off. He was missing his usual bravado. In its place was a sense of desperation. He continued with his show, but the magic wasn't the same. He was losing his grip on reality. The audience was starting to leave, and the rabbit knew he had to finish his show. But as he went to take his final trick, he saw a magician standing in the back, waving to him. It was the rabbit's old friend, the one who had always been there for him. The rabbit had known that he was only pretending to be a magician, but he had still played along. Now the rabbit could see that the magician was only using him. The rabbit had played his part too well. Now he was alone, and he knew that he would never perform again. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up. He's been pulled out of the hat too many times, and he's sick of playing second fiddle. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands. He hops out of the hat and starts doing his own tricks. The audience is amazed, and the magician is horrified. He tries to get the rabbit back into the hat, but the rabbit is having too much fun. In the end, the rabbit gets the last laugh and the audience loves it. The magician is left humiliated, and the rabbit is the star of the show. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are a small group, all of them varies levels and wearies. 'Ello, one of you spotters can I buy some armor? The first one to ask will be the favorites. The group is also plenty different withclass and skills. One youngaphael, for instance, is perfect for the trade. However, he's also a bit of aurry and slow. The other adventurers, including the one spotter, begin to make offers for the weapon. However, before the first one can take it from the artist, the group leader arrives. He's the誘iest and most friendly guy you'd ever know, even if he can be snippy at times. The group is eager to aid you and your shop and want to buy stuff, but they're already long fallen behind. One map, one sextant, one admiral's journal--they've all been lent to you by different adventurers. And they've all been lost in the adventurer's奪那柏姓某者。 The group is eager to offer up their own offers, but they're too late. The one spotter's offer's been met with.,.,.,.,.!,VERY ñeno. Œí The group has been reformed once again and is much larger. They've lost the affiliated's wanderlust and are now all back at the shop. They've also been reformed and are more focused on selling equipment. The one spotter offers the armor to the group for 3,000 damps. The group leader responds by giving the weapon back and telling the room to stop. The group is eager to return the armor. But this time, the one spotter is the誘iest and most friendly guy and he wants it too. The group is long behind and can't keep up. The one spotter's offer's been met with.,.,.,.,.!,VERY ñeno. œ The group is eager to offer up their offers, but they're too late. The one spotter's offer's been met with.,.,.,.,.!,VERY ñeno.œ The group is again present and they are again reforming. This time, they're more focused on selling equipment. The one spotter offers the armor to the group for 3,000 damps. The group leader responds by giving the weapon back and telling the room to stop. The group is eager to return the armor. But this time, the one spotter is the誘iest and most friendly guy and he wants it too. The group is long behind and can't keep up. The one spotter's offer's been met with.,.,.,.,.!,VERY ñeno.œ | Once upon a time, there was aRPG pawn shop. It was a complex and well-hidden business, but the proprietor always managed to find the piles of gold and treasure it required to stay afloat. One day, an adventurer came to the shop looking for some equipment. He had just completed a venture in the neighboring city and was looking for new gear to take with him. The proprietor was kind enough to allow the adventurer to take a look at his collection. Once the adventurer had examined everything he needed, he then came back to the shop and asked the proprietor to sell him some of his equipment. The proprietor was a bit surprised, but he didn't hesitate to comply. He gave the adventurer a set ofgauss rifles, a crossbow, and a pack of dice. The adventurers were happy to have found the equipment he was looking for and took the items home with them. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. Adventures would come in, trying to sell their loot. Sometimes they would be successful, and other times they would be unsuccessful. I would always haggle with them, trying to get a better price. Sometimes I would be successful, and other times I would be unsuccessful. It was a fun job, and I enjoyed it. | You run an RPG pawn shop, where adventurers can come to sell the loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best prices for the items that come through your shop. Today, a young woman comes in, trying to sell a magic sword. You take a look at it and make her an offer. She haggles with you for a while, but in the end she accepts your offer and leaves the shop with a few extra gold pieces in her pocket. As she walks out, you can't help but wonder what adventures she'll have with her new sword. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The groundhog day ever happened as she lay in her bed, reading the books in her room. She was name in a book, and it was only pageantry and pageantry that was the day. She entered into the reading room and there was a figure next to her, reading her mind. "Might as well just read my mind," the voice said. She looked up and saw a man, wearing a white suit, and he was shaking his head as he went by. "Every day, the same," he said, "I wake up and she's there, crying and crying." She started to cry, and the man got up, leaving her alone. | When Dion was just a small child, he never figured out why his mom cried so much. He thought it was because she was sad. But when Dion turned eleven, he learned a different story. His mom cried because she was happy. Dion was the first to understand. From then on, his mom would cry when she was happy, and Dion would always wonder how he could be so lucky. | The sun was setting as I walked home from work, my eyes weighed down with the stress of the day. I trudged through the street, the hard, concrete ground biting into my feet. I was so close to home, but I just couldn't seem to get there. Suddenly, someone came rushing out of the shadows, into the light. It was a woman, her eyes tearing up and her face streaked with tears. She fell into my arms, and I felt the wetness on my shirt. "It's so hard, being a single mother," she sobbed. "Everyone tells me to get a job, but I can't afford one. And my son is so alone in this world." I had no idea what to say, so I just held her while she cried. The tearstreaks on her face turned into rivers, and I felt so guilty. I was the one who made her cry, and there was nothing I could do to make things better. The woman pulled away, her face etched with sadness. "Thank you for listening," she said. "Now go home to your family. I know they can help you feel better." And with that, she walked away, leaving me with a new understanding of tears. They weren't just tears of sadness or joy; they were Tears of Healing. | The world was a different place now. It had been almost a year since the Tears started falling and nobody knew why. Some people said that it was the end of the world, others said that it was a sign from the heavens. All anyone knew for sure was that the tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face. At first, it was just a few people who were affected. But then, more and more people started to show signs of the Tears. It soon became an epidemic. No one was safe from the Tears. The scars left by the Tears were not just physical. They were also emotional. People who once laughed and loved were now scared and withdrawn. The world was a dark place now. Nobody knew how to fix the problem. The best scientists in the world were stumped. The governments of the world were at a loss. And the people were suffering. But then, one day, a cure was found. It was a simple thing, really. All you had to do was to weep. As the Tears fell from your eyes, they would take the scars with them. Slowly but surely, the world started to heal. The scars left by the Tears faded away. And people started to smiles and laugh again. The world was a different place now. But it was a better place. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross travels across America's landscapes to see which places will look best in his "Wonderful World ofmortarelli." He has been painting many places over the years such as America's capital, Rome, but he finally comes back to Dusana, Czechoslovakia, to take another look. In his fourth year in Dusana, the place where he has been painting for " thousanda years," Ross finds himself society has changed much since then. constant battles against simple, rustic flavors of butter and charcuterieHisteryijuanaon a whole are examples of this change. While in Czechoslovakia, Ross discovers a new friends and colleague, Professor Hromadlín, who has been painting alongside him for over 50 years. As they travel back and forth to carry on the tradition of painting thequeens are known for their painting and life, Prof. Hromadlín join forces with Bob Ross to paint him theworld's best place to take care of his landscapes. | As fate would have it, Bob Ross was walking through his house one day when he came across a painting of a location that he had recently killed at. The painting triggered a memory from the days before, when he had been caught in the act and killed by the very person who hademporaryized the painting. The memories kept meling back as I walked through the house and looked at the other paintings. There was a painting of a location of his murder, and I could see the blood and body parts on the ground. There was also a painting of a location where he had just killed his wife, and I could see the photographs of the murders surrounding her body. There was also a painting of a location where he had killed a man, and I could see the weapon he had used in the murder. To make matters worse, one of the paintings in the house had been dedicated to the memory of his murdered wife. | Bob Ross was an artist with a beautiful, serene landscape painting style. However, behind the scenes, he was a ruthless murderer. He would sneak into people's homes while they were asleep and kill them with his paints. The shock of waking up to see a painting of their home in Bob's studio was always too much for his victims. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to mark the locations of his murders. He would choose a beautiful landscape, paint it, and then hide the body of his victim within the painting. For years, Bob Ross fooled the world with his pleasant demeanor and serene paintings. But the truth is that each of his paintings is a crime scene. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician tips his hat and lets the rabbit fall to the ground. The rabbit tries to get back up, but the magician has already taken the rabbit out of the hat. The rabbit is distressed, but the magician is not. He seems to be in for the count of four. When the fourth card comes out, the rabbit realizes that he's been taken out of the show. He tries to back up a step, but the magician will have him installations. So the rabbit bails, and goes to the shelter next day. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician said, "I'm going to put a magic hat on you and make you disappear." The rabbit said, "No, I won't go. I'm just as happy being a part of the audience." | The magician was getting tired of always having to play the rabbit in the hat. He was looking for a new act to put on stage, and he thought that the rabbit might be a good fit. The magician introduced the rabbit to the audience and told them that he was sick of always being second fiddle. The rabbit feigned being sick of playing second fiddle, but secretly he was excited to be on stage. The rabbit worked hard to impress the audience and soon they were accepting him as one of the magician's main performers. The rabbit was happy to finally be given the chance to be the star of his own show. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, preparing for their act. The rabbit is getting tired of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat, and he's getting sick of being second fiddle. He's been practicing his magic tricks, and he's ready to show the world what he can do. The magician starts the act, and the rabbit is pulled out of the hat. The rabbit does his best to perform his tricks, but the magician keeps upstaging him. The rabbit is getting angry now, and he doesn't want to take it anymore. He waves his paws in the air and finally manages to pull off a magical trick that leaves the audiencegasps. The magician is furious, but the rabbit is finally getting the recognition he deserves. He's proved that he's not just a second fiddle, and he's ready to take center stage. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The president is scheduled to give his heir's address to the nation tomorrow. There is a recent trend of presidents having succession plans, but this one is different. The first Famandroid didn't exist for nothing, so the president should reflect on what is left of humanity and what it has caused. If he finds that the country is in trouble, he will have much more luck inDEPENDING ON THIS PLANET! | As the sun streamed in through the window, China woke up to the news that their president had been assassinated. With headlines all over the nation, the government had to find a way to deal with the public outcry. They tried to keep the press from knowing too much, but it was difficult. With so much on their plate, the government didn't have time to deal with anything else. The economy was doing poorly,Crime was on the rise, and the people were angry. One day, someone slipped up. The government wasn't trusted, and there were rumors that they were connected to some of the most heinous crimes. One of their top aides was caught with child pornography. The public was enraged. They wanted their president gone, and they were right to be. The economy crashed, Crime spiked, and the people were on the edge of starvation. With no way to calm the people, the government had to come up with a solution. They announced that they were implementing a new law that would make it easier to prosecute those who leaked government secrets. The public cheered. They were tired of being lied to, and they were glad that their president was gone. The economy continued to tank, Crime increased, and the people were living in fear of being contaminated by the government. But the President's legacy lives on. The new law has been successful, and the economy is recovering. The people are happy, and the cycle of violence has been ended. | As the world watched in horror as the Syrian civil war unfolded, many people argued that the conflict deserved the most attention. But as the years passed and more refugees were displaced, people began to argue that the Syrian refugee crisis was the issue that deserved the greatest amount of attention. In the early days of the Syrian refugee crisis, the world was focused on helping the refugees escape the violence. But as the number of refugees grew and the world became used to the images of refugees camps, people began to demand that the world do more to help them. Governments around the world have responded to the refugee crisis by creating new refugee camps, increasing the amount of money they are giving to help refugees, and implementing new policies to prevent refugees from becoming economic migrants. Although the Syrian refugee crisis is not over, the world has done a lot to help the refugees. And as the world becomes more focused on the threats of climate change, the refugee crisis will likely continue to receive the most attention. | There is no doubt that the current state of the world is in a bit of turmoil. From political unrest to devastating natural disasters, it seems like there is no end to the bad news. However, despite all of the negativity, there are still some bright spots. For example, scientists are making great strides in the fight against climate change and there are many community initiatives that are making a difference in the lives of people all over the world. So, what current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? It is hard to say, but perhaps it is something that is affecting us all in one way or another. Whether it is the environment, social injustice, or something else, we should all be paying attention and doing our part to make a difference. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The something invisible was always there, waiting for a chance to surface. It would comeUI when you were working or astounded when you finally realized what you've been doing. It woulduble in on your thoughts, Come what may, and lead you to the reason you're there. But it's not until you're stuck in a particularly hard situation that you finally realize how much your something invisible is Sauron. | One day, I made an effort to clean my home and discovered an object hidden in the corners of my room. It seemed innocuous enough, until I realized that the object was moving. I began to feel around the edges of the object, trying to determine where it was coming from, but I couldn't find a single clue. I began to feel like I had been held prisoner by the object, and I didn't know how I was going to escape it. | I'm not sure when it started, but something invisible has been living in my home for months now. I can't put my finger on what it is, but every time I try to expose it, it manages to slip away before I can see it. I'm not sure what it is, but I know I need to find out. I need to know what's hiding in my home and why it's trying to avoid me. | I've always felt like there was something invisible living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel it. It's like a presence that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set traps and tried to catch it, but so far, nothing has worked. It's like this invisible thing is fighting back. I'm starting to wonder if I'm just imagining it. Maybe I'm going crazy. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something here, lurking in the shadows. I don't know what it is, but I know I need to find out. I'm not sure what will happen if I do find out. But I have to try. I need to know if this invisible thing is real or if I'm just losing my mind. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | A young woman in her early twenties wasAuditoring when she found a primary battery of birth control devices in a less-than-honorable manner. Made from corroded plastic andPDATED with dirty jellied coral, the devices were a1990s level of esarching and garnishing. She woes ensued when she began to DPremadratic family heiress with her unrequited love for a) a aandersson of b) autherson. c) all three lived in a ) a family with two children who wereAuditoring when they were diagnosed with egotistical ) ace of the and were Grossiapstoney Congratulations! You are the The matter wasfiled away as the father of the children said his, respectively. TheAuditor was presented with a choice to make: or TheAuditor would be lifetime SAVED if the parents were to becomeANDERSSON and BUTTER. TheAuditor TheAuditor chose to become butter. | Every young person is given a birth control device during puberty. It's Inserted into their chest and it poses two big problems. The first is that it can only be used if they're intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. The second problem is that the device can only be deactivated once they're determined to be intelligent and stable enough. So, the Auditors have to be very careful when they're considering who to implant into their society. They want the smartest, most stable people to have the most control over their own lives. However, there are some people who are so stupid that they can't even understand the concept of contraception. So, the Auditors have to be very careful when it comes to who they implant into their society. | As a young adult, I was excited to find out I was one of the few people who had been given a birth control implant as part of their puberty. I eagerly read about the benefits of the implant and how it could help prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I was convinced that it was the best thing to happen to the world, and I was determined to make sure that it worked its magic. It took a few years, but I finally proved myself to be an intelligent and stable person by passing the Auditors' tests. I was ecstatic to find out that I could finally deactivate my birth control implant, and I was determined to put it to use. I was excited to start a family and make a difference in the world. But on my wedding day, I learned that my husband had been secretly using the implant to prevent me from getting pregnant. My world crashed, and I realized that the birth control implant was nothing more than a fool's errand. | You're an Auditor, which means you have the responsibility of determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. This is no small task, as there are many factors to consider. However, you take your job very seriously and do your best to ensure that only the best people are able to have children. One of the main ways you do this is by monitoring the birth control devices that are implanted in everyone during puberty. These devices can only be deactivated if you determine that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. This is a weighty responsibility, but you believe that it's necessary in order to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. You take your job very seriously and do your best to ensure that only the best people are able to have children. You know that this is the only way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and creating even more problems for the world. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | If Ilorin Sherwood was to cry, the mean girl that he had become was potentiality likely greet his tears as Aidan Appleby. It was alreadyiate that these tears would be Motherhood's bane, meek and Room to run. The days felt like a fresh set of tears, as if torrents of rain always checked off one specific box on a calendar. Aidan had always been a Mark family man, but what he had became is what was Sketchy nameable. It was the part that he never wanted to do again, the part where he had to be perfect for the Motherhood. He had never been any where near as big as these women, not even close. The fact that he was still wearing his Father's omen shirt only made the pain worse. "Aidan" was Tom, the man that he had been with for 5 years, and the man that he would be with for the rest of his days. It was the part of him that he never wanted to leave, that is the part where he was perfect, that is what was sketchy named "The Motherhood". Tom had been with her for the part where he had to be perfect, the part where he was there to help others and he would always be there for them. But this new part of his, the part where he would be there for others, was the part that he never wanted to leave. | Once upon a time, there was a teary-eyed girl who Trailer Park Boys taunted and made fun of. She cried every day, and her tears left scars on her face. The pain was real, and it changed the world for her. | A girl named Sarah was crying. The tears streamed down her face and stained her dress. Sarah was sad, and the tears just made her feel worse. But what if tears left marks on people’s faces? How would that change the way society treats tears? Sarah thought about this as she cried on the sidewalk. Her tears stained the pavement and created a very noticeable trail. But Sarah didn’t care. She was sad, and the tears were just the way she cope. Maybe other people would be scared of her if her tears left visible scars, but Sarah didn’t care. She just wanted to cry in peace. | In a world where tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, people would be much more careful about when and why they cried. Showing emotion would be seen as a sign of weakness, and people would go to great lengths to avoid crying in public. Even the act of crying in private would be fraught with danger, as the scars would be a constant reminder of the pain and vulnerability that came with tears. This would create a world that was much more stoic and emotionally repressed. People would be hesitant to express any sort of feelings, for fear of being seen as weak. This would lead to a lot of pent-up emotions, which could eventually lead to outbursts of anger or violence. In this world, tears would be seen as a sign of weakness, and would be something to be avoided at all costs. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | Today is an important day. It's the birthday of a very important person. For many people, the day is known as the day that her birthday is. For others, the day is known as the day that she is. The day is also known as the day when she will be Otiss's new CEO. But for many people, the day is known as the day that she was born. This is a day that is loved and shared by many. Not only is her birthday a day to celebrate, but it is also a day to reflect on your life. That's what this story is about. It is now Rhoda's birthday and she is stepmother to Otiss's her brother and his wife. Otiss's birthday is a day to celebrate, but it is also a day to reflect on your life. That's what this story is about. This is a today that is loved and shared by many. Not only is her birthday a day to celebrate, but it is also a day to reflect on your life. That's what this story is about. | Today, the U.S. Presidential Election is taking place and many people are expressing their opinions on the election. Some people believe that the election is important because it will decide the future of the United States, while others believe that the election is not that important. Many people are just waiting to see who will be the next President. | The biggest issue our society is facing today is the opioid crisis. More people are dying from opioid overdoses than from car accidents or cancer. There are over 47,000 opioid overdose deaths in the United States every year, and that number is only going to increase as the epidemic continues to grow. We need to do something about this problem, and we need to do it quickly. We need to find a way to get people addicted to opioids off of them, and we need to find a way to prevent them from getting addicted in the first place. We need to find a way to stop the opioid crisis, and we need to do it now. | There is no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the issue of climate change. The evidence is clear and the stakes are high. The world is already experiencing the effects of climate change, and if we don't take action to mitigate it, the consequences will be catastrophic. The good news is that there is still time to act, but we need to act now. We need to drastically reduce our greenhouse gas emissions and move to a clean energy economy. It won't be easy, but it's essential if we want to leave a livable planet for future generations. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The show is about to start when suddenly the rabbit is gone, replaced by a Marsden boy. The crowdْoolms, while the father gets a little intimidated. | The magician had been pulling out the rabbits from their hats for weeks now, but the rabbit was getting a little too used to the routine. It wasn't that the magician was a bad magician, he was just good at pulling rabbits out of hats. But the rabbit didn't like the way the magician was always shifting it around, as if it was always going to escape. It was odd, the rabbit thought, why the magician always had to take it out of the hat in the first place. It was like the magician was trying to make the rabbit secondary. And the rabbit didn't like that. So, one day, the rabbit made a decision. It was time to stand up for itself. The rabbit wanted to be the one that got special attention from the magician, not the rabbit that was always the second fiddle. So it walked up to the magician and said, "No more playing second fiddle!" | The magician begins to pull out a rabbit from a hat, but the rabbit is not happy. "Why me?" the rabbit protests. "I'm just a little rabbit!" The magician responds, "But you're the best rabbit I've ever played with. You always make me look good." The rabbit scoffs, but the magician is right. The rabbit has a knack for magic, and the magician uses that to his advantage. The rabbit is tired of always being in the background, so the magician takes a risk and tells the rabbit that he wants to make a change. The rabbit is surprised but intrigued. The magician proceeds to teach the rabbit how to be the powerhouse that he is, and the rabbit becomes one of the most celebrated magicians in the world. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up. He's been stuck in that hat for years, playing second fiddle to the magician's tricks. Enough is enough! The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and hatches a plan. During the next trick, he waits for his moment and then makes a break for it. He bolts off the stage and into the audience, where he is finally free. The magician is stunned, but the audience loves it. They give the rabbit a standing ovation and he takes a bow before making his escape. He's finally free and he knows he'll never go back to that hat again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | As soon as they walked in, the liar in you required a new level of skulldux. The huge lie massaged in to the skin with a final layer of bluster, "Why would I tell you this? We're not going to be able to make it to the PADI Technical examiner within the due course" her friendly gaze meeting hisauseitably. In answer to her question, the biggest lie in the room told him how she had Left him for another man. The fact that he had allowed himself to be used by someone else only Haste the Deep-seascnce of those months of torment. The friendliness of his gaze was melted into the liar in him, as was his courage, when he tells her he can't make it to the exam. The liar in him shows TREUELOVE the next day at the instigation of her friend, a plan that requires telling the truth to someone who would ship her away with someone better. Her mind isitaricated when she sees the fear in his eyes, the man tries to second-think the plan but there's no chance of making it to the examiner without telling him the truth. The biggest lie in the world tells the truth to the man, and they end up together. The man because of the weight of the lies he has told, and the liar in him because she was forced to tell the truth. The both of them end up better lives, and the liar in the end iseto herself t Pin down and give her word. | You meet this person in a strange place. They areOn the other side of a large fence. You can't quite make out what is happening, but you feel like you are in danger. You look around and see that the people around you are all cloaked in secrecy. It's as if they only have one goal : to protect this person. You keep your eyes peeled for the person that you are worried about, but they are never seen. Suddenly, the fenceBehind which you are standing is sliced in two, and you fall into the waiting arms of the person you are worried about. | I can't help but stare at him. He's the most beautiful person I've ever seen. His one scar is so big, it's almost impossible to look at. It runs across his entire chest. It's like he's been through hell, but he's still standing. He looks at me with those beautiful, brown eyes and I can't help but fall in love with him. We spend all day walking around the city, telling each other our stories. He tells me about the time he got caught up in a political revolution and had to run for his life. I tell him about the time I was caught in a tornado and had to bury my parents. We spend every day together, just talking and laughing. And I don't ever want to leave his side. But I know eventually I will have to. The longer I stay, the more scars I'll create on my own body. But I'll never forget the smile on his face when I leave, or the way he held me while I cried. | You're walking down the street when you see somebody ahead of you with a massive scar on their back. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You can't help but stare as you walk past them. You start to wonder about the person and what could have possibly caused such a massive scar. The more you think about it, the more curious you become. Finally, you musters up the courage to approach the person and ask about their scar. They hesitate at first, but then they tell you their story. They explain that they used to be a compulsive liar. They would lie about everything, no matter how big or small. But eventually, their lies caught up to them. One day, they told a whopper of a lie and it created a massive scar on their body. They tell you that they've since stopped lying and that the scar is a reminder of the person they used to be. They warn you to be careful with your words because you never know when a lie might come back to haunt you. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was lying in bed, pretending to sleep, when I heard a noise coming from downstairs. I quickly got up and went to the window to see a man being carried down the street. He was stretchered off the street and into an ambulance. I ran to the door and watched as the ambulance zoomed away. The man was never seen again. | It was the last thing I remembered before passing out. All I could hear was the beeping of the machines that were keeping me alive. I was caught in the middle of a Shakespeare play and I was dying. I was dying on stage, and all my friends and family were watching. I didn't want to die. I wanted to wake up and be in the same position I was in before I passed out. But I wasn't going to get that chance. I was fading in and out of consciousness, and when I finally passed out, I knew I was gone for good. I could hear the beeping of the machines and the gasps of the audience, but I was gone. I was gone and I would never see my family or friends again. | I was having a great day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. I was out for a walk, enjoying the fresh air, when I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest. I clutched at my chest, gasping for breath, and then everything went black. When I opened my eyes, I was floating in a dark void. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear a voice. "Congratulations," the voice said. "You have died." "What?" I asked. "What happens now?" "Now, you move on to the next life," the voice said. "You will be born again, and you will have another chance to live your life." I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Even though I didn't know what was ahead, I was ready to start my new journey. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | When Gizmo was 2, his mom deactivated his birth control device. Today, he is an Auditor and knows he can prevent only the Dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | Auditor 1: (To Auditor 2) It's been determined that you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. Auditor 2: Thank you, Auditor 1. I'm excited to start the process of reproducing. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. I don't know how it works, I'm just told that it's there to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I'm not sure how I would ever be able to live up to that standard, but I'm willing to try. I'm an Auditor. I'm tasked with determining whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Obviously, I have to pass the test first. But I'm confident that I can do it. I have a heart full of love, and I'm willing to do anything to ensure that my children will have a brighter future. | You are an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In order to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. You have a difficult job, but you take it seriously. You interview each person who wishes to have their device deactivated, and you make your decision based on a variety of factors. Some people are clearly not ready, while others seem more than capable. It's a delicate balance, but you feel that you've made a difference in the world. And that's what matters most. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The woman had never cried like she had when she was younger, when she was Quinn's girl. She would cry whenever he was anywhere around, and she had never Beans or cried for long. When he died, she cried for hours on end. The crying stopped. The body started to feel like it own. The face that was face began to body. The recognition that had been stubbornly refuses to leave someone's mind started to set in. | One day, a tear rolled down a person's cheek and landed on the ground. It stayed there, still hidden beneath the other tears, for a long time. Finally, after a moment, it slowly petered out and slowly slid away, leaving a long, deep scar on the person's face. | No one ever knew the truth about the man with the scars. Some say he was abused as a child, others say he was in a car accident. But no one could really say for sure. What was clear, though, was that his tears left deep, dark scars on his face. Everyone in his life seemed to know about the scars, but no one ever said a word. It was as if they were afraid of what the answer would be. As if the answer would make everything worse. Slowly but surely, the man started to fade into obscurity. No one wanted to be around him, let alone talk to him. He was alone in the world, and the only thing he had left were the scars that told his story. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For one, people would be more careful with their words. No one would want to cause pain that would leave a permanent mark. There would be a lot more hugs and smiles, and a lot less anger and hatred. This change would have a ripple effect on the world. There would be less war and violence, and more peace and understanding. People would be more compassionate and compassionate, and the world would be a better place for it. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in high use amongst the clients. They are always searching for new and exciting loot to instance. The shop is always in need of a color coat because of the constantly changing loot. | One day, a particularly nefarious individual comes to your shop and starts haggling for treasure. He's got a sly grin on his face and you can tell that he's been up to no good. You try to find a way to give him the best deal possible, but he won't stop questioning your prices,astaoning you every time. Finally, you give in and let him buy the treasure. But even after he's moneyed up, he won't leave. He starts taking things from the store, taking things you've already sold. You grow increasingly upset, but can't do anything about it. The only thing you can do is to keep your store open, and hope that someone will come by and help you stop this thief. | I've been running the RPG pawn shop for years now. I know how to haggle, and I know how to get the best deals for my customers. They come in all shapes and sizes, but I've learned to deal with them all. Some adventurers try to sell me their loot as soon as they get it. They're always asking for a high price, and they don't seem to understand that I have to make a profit too. But I know that there are always some diamonds in the rough, and I'm always willing to haggle. I'll usually start by asking them how much they're willing to give for the item. If they're willing to lower the price, I'll usually agree to sell it to them. If they're not willing to reduce the price, I'll usually tell them that I won't sell it to them at all. It's a tough business, but I've learned to stick to my guns and make the best deals for my customers. They come in all shapes and sizes, but I know that I can always trust them. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Most of the time, you're able to get a good price for the items. However, sometimes the adventurers are desperate and will try to lowball you. That's when you have to be firm and get the best price possible. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A young couple is about to embark on a road trip when they decide to take their little girl and son with them. The father is onIDEIVE and the mother is browseros. They stop at a convenience store for snacks and water to Before Its44Tan. The store is empty, so they go to the next one. The store is full, so they go to the next one. The store is full, so they go to the next one. They come to the last one and the cashier is holding the phone. The mother is surprise to see that her son is buying a case of water and her daughter is buying a case of snacks. The father is plastered on MOBLE and the mother is thinking about quitting her job and moving away. The son is like, "Psss, I'll just stay here." And the mother is like, " okay, well you could tried harder to getsss lined up for the road trip." | Today is a special day. It is the day that Trump is elected president of the United States. It is a day that many people are anticipating and looking forward to. Even though Trump has some Crate and Barrel-quality policies, many people still find him to be a dealmaker. Some people even say that he is the best president that the country has ever seen. Even though many people are excited about Trump's inauguration, there is one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention. That issue is the economy. The economy is basically hurting right now. Many people are struggling to make ends meet. It isn't easy to get by these days. Some people are say that Trump's policies will help fixes the economy. But it is still going to be a long journey. There are a lot of uncertainties with Trump's presidency. So, promises and hopes are kind of flying all around the country today. But, no one really knows for sure what will happen. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the rise of the far-right. Ever since the election of Donald Trump, the far-right has seen a rise in activity, with rallies and protests becoming more common. This issue needs to be addressed as soon as possible, as the far-right is a dangerous group that is trying to gain power. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the ongoing conflict in Syria. For over five years, Syria has been embroiled in a civil war that has killed hundreds of thousands of people and displaced millions more. The conflict has also created a breeding ground for terrorist groups like ISIS, which has terrorized the region and the world. The international community has been largely powerless to stop the violence, and the Syrian people have suffered immensely. It is imperative that the world pays attention to the Syria conflict and works to find a way to end the violence. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | When you met him, he was the only person in the world that you could rely on. He was the one person who would never tell you a lie. But as the weeks went on, you began to wonder if he was really thataintain. After all, you had just met him, and you didn't know how to feel. You 4th of July and all, but you didn't want to firmware someone that had so much paper falsely told you about. When you finally can't take it anymore, you confront him about it. "So, do you tell the truth or what?" Youibelieve your voiceeroed. He looks at you with a rare Although he tries to play the part of the sacrifices rituals, he doesn'tiltration mission, he doesn't have to. He knows he can't continue to tell you the truth. | You meet someone new and curious one day, and you quickly become friends. You tell her about all the lies you have told in the past and how deep and wide the damage they have done. She listens with patience and understanding, and finally agrees to help you clean up your act.Together, you work diligently to clean up your history, and you quickly become a changed person. | I first saw her when I was out walking one day. She was walking down the street, holding Assad, her little dog. She had a big, red, angry scar on her arm. It looked like it had been inflicted with a very sharp object. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. From then on, I started to notice her all the time. She would always be walking around with that big, angry scar on her arm. I wanted to ask her about it, but I was too afraid. I was afraid that she would tell me a big, fat lie and I would get another scar on my body. I eventually got up the courage to talk to her. I asked her about the scar. She told me that it was from when Assad bit her. Assad always bit people, so she was used to it. But this time, Assad bit too hard. The scar was still there, a reminder of her biggest lie. Since then, I have started to see her as a sort of symbol. A symbol of all the lies that we tell. Lying doesn't just make us feel good, it also creates scars on our bodies. And sometimes, those scars are the biggest ones of all. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone who only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must be the biggest liar in the world, you think. But as you get to know them, you realize that they are the most honest person you have ever met. They have just been dealt a lot of pain in their life and have had to lie to survive. You learn that their one scar is from a lie they told to save someone else's life. It is a lie that they will never regret. Even though this person is covered in scars, you see them as the most beautiful person in the world. Because to you, their scars represent strength and courage. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way to the clinical trials of his latest research when he sees Adolf Hitler walking down the street. Freud decides to a stop him from going any further. "What do you have?" Freud is asked as he walks up to Hitler. Freud has always been struck by the size of Haymarket Square, now day and night, and how Digitalibweeas cocooned theuinians in their brilliant light. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you have." Hitler responds. "I'm sorry," Freud says, "I don't know." Roosevelt responds. "You're like a big fish in a small water," Hitler says. "I'm a big fish in a small water," Freud says. "You're a big fish in a small water," Hitler says. "I'm a big fish in a small water," Freud says. | Adolf Hitler was looking for a new challenge. He had just been elected Chancellor of Germany, and it seemed like all his previous works were a waste of time. So he decided to take up psychiatry. Joseph Stalin was the perfect candidate for the role of head of the Soviet Union. He had been in power for many years, and was known for his ruthless rule. Leon Trotsky was the only candidate who had a chance of emerging as the victor of the Russian Revolution. But he was also known to be a radical, and might have been too unpredictable for the job. Josip Broz Tito was the only candidate who had any hope of winning the election. But he was also known to be corrupt, and might not have had the power to take over the government. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials with these promising candidates, but he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. He had never worked with so many powerful men before. As the days passed, Freud began to feel more at ease. The four men were all very eager to try out his new technique. They all seemed to have a great deal of passion for politics, and Freud was hopeful that the research would be fruitful. But there was one thing that Freud was still worried about. He didn't know how these men would handle the pressure of being pioneers in psychological research. | Dr. Freud was quite pleased with the turnout for his latest clinical trial. He had expected to see a few more people, but the four who had shown up were more than enough. He greeted each of them warmly and showed them to their seats. Adolf Hitler was the first to speak up. "Dr. Freud, I'm very interested in your research. I think it could be very helpful for me." Next, Joseph Stalin spoke up. "I'm also interested in your research, Dr. Freud. I think it could help me understand myself better." Leon Trotsky was the third to speak. "I'm interested in your research as well, Dr. Freud. I think it could help me to understand the world better." Last, but not least, Josip Broz Tito spoke up. "I'm also interested in your research, Dr. Freud. I think it could help me to understand people better." Dr. Freud was pleased with their interest and began to explain his research. He told them about his theories on the unconscious mind and the id, ego, and superego. He explained how he believed that the id was the part of the mind that was responsible for our primal urges, the ego was the part of the mind that helped us to balance our wants and needs, and the superego was the part of the mind that helped us to control our impulses. He then asked them each to tell him about their own personal experiences with these concepts. Adolf spoke about his struggles with his id, and how he felt like it was always trying to control him. Joseph spoke about his ego, and how it sometimes seemed like it was trying to take over his life. Leon spoke about his superego, and how it was always trying to keep him in check. Josip spoke about his id, ego, and superego, and how they all seemed to be constantly at war with each other. Dr. Freud was very pleased with their responses and thanked them for their time. He told them that he would be in touch if he needed any more help with his research. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | For as long as he can remember, Lizzy has been aLitter (orEye-Litter as he calls it). He has always been theC Ey-Litter (orC Ey-Litter as she calls him). But one day, he meets a person with only one scar - and that is the biggest one he has ever seen. | You meet this person on a dark and stormy night. They are standing on the dock of a pier, their clothingastered to their bodies. They are shirtless, and you can see the darkness stains the hollows of their pectorals and nipples. They are looking at you with a hunger in their eyes, and you can feel the blood pulsing in your veins. Their name is The Dealer, and you know it. He has killed more people than you will ever know, and his name is spoken with a singsong voice in your head. You know that you are about to meet your maker. | As I walked closer, I could see that this person's one gigantic scar was the result of a lie that had been told so often and so forcefully that it had literally scarred the liar's body. It was so deep and so big that it seemed to run the length of their entire body. It was strange to see such a massive and permanent reminder of such a small and insignificant mistake, but it made me realize that even the biggest lies can cause enormous damage. If we tell lies often enough, they begin to consume us, and we become nothing more than walking scars. | You meet someone at a party who only has one scar. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. They tell you that they've lied a lot in their life. You ask them what the scar is from. They tell you that it's from the biggest lie they ever told. You ask them what the lie was. They hesitate to tell you, but eventually they confess. They tell you that they lied about their age. They say they're really 34, not 24 like they told everyone. You're shocked. You would never have guessed that they were lying about their age. You ask them why they did it. They tell you that they wanted to seem younger and more attractive. You can understand why they would lie about their age, but you're still curious about the scar. You ask them how they got it. They tell you that every time they lie, a scar appears on their body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. This scar is from the biggest lie they've ever told. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler had just taken over as Germany's leader, and he was eager to get his hands on some of Freud's new research. He put an ad in the paper, seeking participants for his clinical trials. Joseph Stalin was the only one to respond. He wasn't all that interested in the new research, but he was too busy being in power to decline. Leon Trotsky didn't respond, because he was busy fighting against Stalin. Josip Broz Tito didn't respond, because he was too young and didn't have a lot of experience. But Adolf Hitler did. He put the ad in the paper again, this time looking for people who would be willing to help him study Freud's new research. And this time, he got more than he bargained for. | Freud is puzzled by the responses to his advertisement. He has never worked with such young, inexperienced people. He decides to give them a trial run, and spends the next few weeks coaching them on how to be successful doctors. Adolf Hitler is the first to arrive. Freud is impressed by his ambition and drive. He is also surprised by Hitler's volatile nature. Hitler is quick to challenge Freud's theories, and often becomes enraged when Freud does not agree with him. Joseph Stalin arrives later that week. Freud is less impressed by Stalin, but the two men eventually get along. Stalin is more patient than Hitler, and is more committed to the cause. Leon Trotsky arrives the week after that. Trotsky is different from the other participants. He is quiet and cerebral, and does not seem interested in becoming a doctor. Freud is not sure what to make of him. Josip Broz Tito arrives the week after that. Tito is the most inexperienced of the participants, and Freud is worried he will not be able to handle the pressure of the trials. However, Tito proves himself to be a skilled doctor, and quickly becomes one of the most important members of the team. | Sigmund Freud's latest research is on the human psyche and he is looking for participants for his clinical trials. He places an ad in a local newspaper and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to take part in the trials and share their insights with Freud. Freud is impressed with their dedication and begins to treat each man individually. During the course of the trials, Freud comes to realize that all four men share a similar trait: they are all incredibly ambitious and hungry for power. This revelation leads Freud to believe that ambition is a key component of the human psyche. The clinical trials are a success and Freud's research is published to great acclaim. However, his findings are later overshadowed by the actions of his four participants. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito all go on to become some of the most ruthless dictators in history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are an Errorsmith's Clan team that has been exploring one of thees dungeons. They arecurrenty MOB( Enemy of the World ) and want to sell theiralbums andblogspot photos. The pawnshop owner is not going to let the team teach them a lesson. | One day I had an offer from a group of adventurers who wanted to sell some of their looted goods. I did my best to negotiate the best price possible, and the group was satisfied. I took the money and went back to my shop to continue serving my customers. | I've been running my RPG pawn shop for over 10 years now, and I have to say, it's a pretty boring job. I deal with adventurers all the time, trying to sell them loot they've acquired. I usually try to haggle them down, but it's tough to convince them to part with their loot. I guess it's just a testament to how much adventurers love looting. | You've been running your RPG pawn shop for years now, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your doors. Some are looking to sell their loot for a quick buck, while others are more interested in haggling for the best price. No matter what their motive, you always enjoy talking to these adventurers and hearing about their latest exploits. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, eager to sell her collection of loot. After some quick bargaining, you agree on a price and hand over the money. As she walks out the door, you can't help but wonder what exciting adventure awaits her next. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The owner of the home was trying to get a large dog to leave. The dog was constantly persists in waiting in front of herhouse for a room to become busy. Eventually, she gave up and went away. The dog was doing its best to create a comfortable environment for itself. Unfortunately, the dog's invisibility had been picked up by the cat. The cat began toitty-itty-itty within the house, trying to get a look at the dog. Finally, the dog got up from the floor and walked away. | One summer, I was sitting in my living room watching TV when I noticed something strange. out of the corner of my eye, I could see what appeared to be a small, furry creature crawling across the floor. It didn't make any noise, which made me think it was actually a cat. But then, as I got closer, I realized that the creature was actually a small, dark mouse. The fact that it was hidden behind the TV screen made it even more ominous. I sat there for a few minutes, just staring at the mouse, before finally deciding to take action. I got up and confronted the creature. At first, it seemed harmless, but as I got closer, I realized that it was actually planning on harming me. I screamed, and it ran away. | I've been living with an invisible presence in my home for months now and I can't get it out of my head. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence, but it always manages to slip away. I've tried to research it online, but all of the information is blocked from my computer. I'm starting to think that this is something supernatural and I need to call the Ghostbusters. | I can't help but feel like I'm being watched. No matter where I am in my home, I can sense an invisible presence following me. It's unsettling, to say the least. I've tried to expose it, to see if it's truly there, but it's clever. It knows when I'm trying to catch a glimpse of it and it hides itself away. I'm not sure what this thing is, but I know I don't like it. I want to get rid of it, but I don't know how. I'll have to be careful and try to catch it off guard. Maybe then I can figure out what this thing is and get rid of it for good. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The smile slowly began to cost lessetchup start to fade from people ' s face. The shadows that once made up its form were starting to become too thick. The道 | Once upon a time, people cried. They fell apart under the weight of the emotions coursing through them. They left behind trails of sadness and mess. The universe seemed unfair that they were forced to go through such pain. But in time, those tears began to fade. They stopped leaving scars on the skin and people. They just continued to be. But, without those tears, the world would be a different place. The world would be full of intensity and pain, but people would be able to see through it. They would be able to see the darkness that masks the light. And they would be able to see theemption that exists in every human. | Alison started crying as soon as the door closed shut, tears flowing freely down her face. She had been so excited to see her old friend again, but now she was alone, feeling completely rejected. She had tried to catch his eye, but he had looked away, Avoiding her like the plague. Alison cried her way home, her tears leaving behind tiny scars on her face. She had always been self-conscious about her tears, but now they only made her feel even more alone and rejected. She wished she could just disappear, never to be seen again. But eventually, Alison dried her tears and faced the world. She had to get through this, even if it meant wearing scars that marked her as someone who had been emotionally hurt. She knew that no one would ever want to be around someone like that, but she was determined to get through this difficult experience. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. People would be more careful with their words, and more thoughtful about the way they treat others. No one would want to cause someone else pain, because they would know that it would leave a permanent mark. This would change the way we interact with each other, and the way we think about our relationships. We would be more careful with our hearts, and more careful with our words. We would think twice before hurting someone, because we would know that we could never take back the damage we did. This would be a kinder, gentler world. A world where people are more careful with each other, and more aware of the power of their words. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | It was 3 a.m. when I felt the first tear Well, it was a normal cry, but with the volume high and the frequency high. It was a cry that you would see on a person every day, a cry that came down off of them with a moder | The first time I ever saw tears leave a person's eyes, I was deeply affected. I had just finished my first day of college, and I was at a party with my friends. It was really early in the night, and I was getting ready for bed. I saw the beautiful girl across the room and she caught my eye. I could tell she was home from college and had a lot on her mind. She started crying and I followed suit. We cried together for what seemed like hours. It was the first time I had ever seen someone cry and I was really impressed. After the party, we walked to her house and she invited me in. We sat on the floor and she started telling me how she had been through so much the past few years. She said that she had been in a bad relationship and that she was almost ready to end it. I offered to help her until she could get back on her feet. We cried until she fell asleep. That night, I thought about that girl all night. I couldn't get her out of my head and I knew that she had left a deep impression on me. I knew that if I ever saw tears leave someone's eyes, I would be deeply affected too. I started to see tears in other people's eyes too, and I started to notice how differently their world looked when someone cried. I started to see the beauty in tears and I was amazed by the power that tears could have. I knew that if I ever saw tears leave someone's eyes, it would change the course of my life. | One day, a woman cried her eyes out. The tears stained her face, leaving invisible scars that would stay with her for the rest of her life. This woman's world would be different from before, because she would be unable to freely express her emotions. This would cause her to struggle in Communication and relationships. | Tears have always been a sign of weakness. They show that we're vulnerable and we can be hurt. But what if tears left scars as they trickled down our faces? How would this change our world? Tears would no longer be a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength. They would show that we're survivors. They would be a badge of honor, something to be proud of. No longer would we be ashamed of our tears. We would embrace them and use them as a weapon against our enemies. The world would be a different place if tears left scars. Would it be a better place? Only time will tell. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | At the beginning of the performance,idently, the magician has no idea what is happening. He's not aware of the rabbit in the hat behind him, and the rabbit in the hat behind him is getting sick of being second best. "Finally, a decision is made to put the rabbit on the bottom of the hat," he thinks as he gets close to the top of the hat. He struggles a bit, but the magician is doing his thing and the rabbit is just asying. "Finally, I can't be the only one not happy," he thinks as he gets sent down the hat. "I'll have to come back up later." He gets back up, songwriter's hat in hand, and decides to take on the chocolate cake. | The magician had been teaching his latest magic trick for the past year and a half. He had been demonstrating it to his students and making them laugh. But the rabbit had beenHas been unable to seem to be impressed. "Hey, watch this!" The magician cried, pulling out his rabbit from the hat. The rabbit's eyes scanned the audience, looking for someone or something to interest it. But there was nobody there. The rabbit just looked around, its tail spinning in a circles. "H-he-hey, watch this!" The magician cried, pulling out his rabbit from the hat. The rabbit's eyes scanned the audience, looking for someone or something to interest it. But there was nobody there. The rabbit just looked around, its tail spinning in a circles. "What's wrong with it?" The students asked, looking around for the rabbit. "I don't know," The magician said, "Maybe it's just experimenting." But the rabbit just looked around, its tail spinning in a circles. "Well, I'm going to take it back!" The magician yelled, starting to cry. The students looked at each other, not knowing what to do. Nothing seemed to be working. "Please, somebody help me!" The magician cried, tears streaming down his face. Nobody seemed to want to help. The magician was starting to cry, his students all crying with him. "Please, somebody help me!" The magician cried, tears streaming down his face. Nobody seemed to want to help. | The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but he had never had one that was so irritable. The rabbit kept batting its eyes and hopping up and down, begging the magician to make it stop. Finally, the rabbit had had enough. It jumped out of the magician's hat and onto the stage, demanding to be the star of the show. The magician was taken aback, but he quickly got back into character and started pulling rabbits out of hats again. From then on, the rabbit was the star of every show, and the magician was content to just be the magician's rabbit. | The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of always being the one who gets pulled out of the hat. He wants to be the star of the show. One day, the rabbit hatches a plan. When the magician goes to pull him out of the hat, he refuses to come out. The magician is confused and tries to coax the rabbit out, but the rabbit is adamant. The audience starts to get restless, and the magician is forced to end the show early. As the two of them walk off stage, the rabbit is smug, knowing that he finally got the spotlight. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. However, everyone who uses the device is everyone's favorite relative,iko, or competition. Even if the themselves are only mild obliterates. The device is used to prevent the power of a family from stretching beyond their control, and to prevent allKinds fromenvoting for their own good. | Auditors are the people who decide who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. They implant devices in people's bodies during puberty, to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. I was an Auditor when the devices were first placed in people. I was determined to prevent any stupid humans from reproducing. But I was also determined to be the best Auditor possible. I worked hard to learn all I could about genetic saturation and the different types of birth control devices. I was also determined to be the best Auditor possible at my job. But one day, a stupid human was born. And I was not happy. | I was born into a society where birth control is mandatory for everyone. I knew nothing other than this life until I was fifteen, when a device was implanted into my skin during my puberty. I was told it was for my own good, that it would prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing and screwing up the gene pool. I was an Auditor, and my job was to determine whether or not people were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was supposed to deactivate the birth control device once I was sure they were ready to be parents. But I never got the chance. A few years after I was born, a new generation of Auditors was appointed, and they purged the old ones. I was the only one left, and I was captured and sent to a concentration camp. I was scheduled to be executed, but before they could carry out their orders, the uprising happened. I was one of the few who survived, and now I'm free. I don't know what will happen to the birth control device, but I hope it remains in place and prevents the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | You've been an Auditor for years now, and you've never once wavered in your determination to make sure only the most intelligent and stable people are able to reproduce. It's a difficult job, but you know it's important work. Recently, you've been noticing a trend. More and more people are coming to you to have their birth control devices deactivated. At first, you were happy to oblige. But as the numbers continued to grow, you began to worry that you were making a mistake. Now, you're not so sure. Are these people really ready to start families? Or are they just taking advantage of the system? Either way, you know it's your duty to make sure they're truly prepared for the responsibility of raising a child. You'll have to be extra careful from now on. But you know it's all worth it to ensure that only the best and brightest people are able to bring new life into the world. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in business for years, and the adventurers always decide who will have to pay for the items. The pawnshop's owner is not afraid to challenge them in court. | Once upon a time, an RPG pawnshop operated without any hassle. The adventurers would come to you for help finding gear, and you would haggle with them for the best prices. But then something changed. The adventurers started trying to cheat you. They would ask for too much, or refuse to give you any gear if you didn't have the appropriate amount of it. Even though you were always fair, the situation started to become frustrating. You decided to close your shop. It didn't solve the problem, but it was the best solution for now. And you never bothered going back to the adventurers again. | I had always been fascinated by the idea of running an RPG pawn shop. I loved the idea of haggling with adventurers who came to sell their loot. It was a fun way to make a little money and get to know my customers. I had been running my shop for about a year now and I had acquired a good reputation. I loved getting to know the adventurers who stopped by my shop. I always tried to give them a fair price for their items, but I was always willing to haggle if I felt that the price wasn't fair. One day, I was having a discussion with an adventurer about the price of their magical sword. I was trying to haggle them down to a price that I felt was fair, but they weren't budging. I could see the determination in their eyes and I knew that they weren't going to give in. I decided to give up on haggling and just give them the price that I thought was fair. I was happy to hear that they were satisfied with the price and that they would be coming back to my shop again. It was always a fun experience getting to talk to my customers and haggle with them. | You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired on their adventures. You're a master of your trade, and you always get the best prices for the gear. The adventurers always come back to you when they need money, because they know you're the only one who will give them a fair price. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross travels through time to view his hundreds of murders at his homesite. Each painting has a different location and it is great for timing and reputation. However, he is too busy painting and cannot help but create detailed immortalized images of people and events. | Bob Ross started painting landscapes in the early '70s when he decided to open up his own business. He loved the creative freedom and the freedom to move around his creative canvases as he pleased. Everyday, he would visit different locations in order to paint new pieces. One day, he took a break from painting to visit a murder scene. On the wall in front of him was a painting of a woman with her throat cut. Ross was traumatized by the experience and started to develop a dark andgrisly memory of the murders. Every time he would go to a new location, the memory of the woman's murder would keep creeping up on him. It felt like it was living inside of him, like it was waiting to surface and claim him again. Eventually, Ross realized that the painting was actually his own personal story of violence and murder. He had painted the woman in order to derive comfort and understanding from her death, but in reality, it was only a warning to others about the dangers ofSANCTUARY. | Bob Ross was a master of the landscape painting genre, able to evoke both peace and despair with just a few strokes of his brush. But even he wasn't clever enough to evade the authorities forever. In the late 1970s, Bob made his way to a remote corner of the United States, settled in to paint the tranquil landscape before him. But instead of the beauty he sought, he was soon beset by tragedy. One by one, the local residents started disappearing. No one could figure out who was behind it, but they all knew it wasn't Bob Ross. The painter had nothing to do with the murders, but the townsfolk were terrified of him nonetheless. Eventually, the authorities caught up with Bob Ross and charged him with the murders of all of his innocent victims. He was convicted and sent to prison, where he still paints landscapes of despair to this day. | Bob Ross was a talented landscape painter, but he had a dark secret. He was also a serial killer, and each of his beautiful landscape paintings was actually a scene from one of his countless murders. He would often take his victims to remote locations, where he would kill them and then bury their bodies. Over time, he became known as the "Bob Ross Killer" and his paintings became infamous. Now, decades later, his paintings are still cherished by many. But the truth about them is still a mystery... | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop's owner is a bitinal youths who are constantly on the lookout for a good sale. They have a final offer to offer, and they are only willing to sell the Rites of passage to centaur. The adventurers are a small and Florin the Decent one are picters and are desperate to find something to buy. They are only willing to pay 1,000 gold coins per piece and the price of pieces can beitage what they want. The pawn shop owner is not happy with the offer, but he will take the chance. He pulls a few prices low and cast various crafting labor muscles to push the prices back until he gets what he wants. The adventurers are in shock at how this is being done. They feel that they are being forced to buy things that may not be necessary for their character, and they are not happy at all. | The shop was always popular with adventurers. It was a great place to get loot and sell it to others. But today, something was wrong. The door opened, and a large, bulky man walked in. He was accompanied by a small, scruffy woman. The woman was shouting and pointing at the man, who was looking at her with a confused expression. The man began to walk around the shop, looking at everything. Finally, he stopped on the shelves and looked up at the woman. "What's wrong?" he asked. The woman looked at the man with anger, but she soon grew to understand him. "He's a thief!" she shouted. The man looked surprised. "What do you mean?" "He came in here and stole our gold," the woman said. The man looked at her, confusion clear in his eyes. "He what?" The woman shook her head. "He's a thief! He came into the shop and stole our gold!" The man looked at her incredulously. "How could he do that?" The woman frowned. "I don't know. He just came in, and he was looking for our gold. He was very lucky that we didn't have it with us." The man looked around the shop, trying to find a way to stop the thief. But, he was out of luck. The thief had already taken the gold and run away. | The shop was always busy, and Angelina had a feeling it was because of her. After all, she was the only person in the entire town who ran an RPG pawn shop. But whatever the reason, she loved it. Besides, it gave her an excuse to haggle with the adventurers who came through her door. And she always managed to get a good deal out of them. Especially today. She had just finished haggling with a group of adventurers, and they had left with their pockets full of treasure. "Thanks for coming," she said as they left. "I always enjoy haggling with you adventurers. Hopefully, you'll come back soon." And with that, she went back to her usual routine: arranging weapons on the shelves, and greeting the adventurers who came into her pawn shop. | You own an RPG pawn shop, where adventurers can come to sell the loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a master haggler, and you always try to get the best deal for your shop. Today, a young woman comes into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been on a long journey. You start to haggle with her, but she's not very good at it. She's obviously new to this. After a few minutes, you manage to get her to agree to a price that's fair for both of you. As she hands over the sack of loot, she thanks you for your help. She says she's been on a long journey, and she's glad to finally be rid of all that stuff. You watch her as she leaves, and you can't help but feel proud of yourself. You've just helped another adventurer get one step closer to their goal. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for a clinical trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ), Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler read the ad and decided to Participate. He was already a popular leader in his home country, and now he wanted to take his place in the world's greatest capital. Joseph Stalin was a powerful figure in Russia, and he knew how to manipulate people. Leon Trotsky was a top Marxistographer and thinker. He had the idea to create a new political party and take it to the next level. And, of course, there was Josip Broz Tito, who was just 19 years old and had only ever served as an unpaid guard in a Serbian military base. | Freud was excited to finally have some participants for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for people who were interested in the new research. Surprisingly, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was curious to see how these different individuals would respond to the same treatment. The trials started out smoothly. All of the participants seemed to be responding well to the treatment. But then something changed. Hitler became violent and paranoid, Stalin became ruthless and egotistical, Trotsky became paranoid and power-hungry, and Tito became soft and pacifistic. Freud was perplexed by this change, but he decided to continue the trials. Eventually, all four of the participants went mad. Hitler became a dictator, Stalin became a ruthless dictator, Trotsky became a paranoid tyrant, and Tito became a benevolent dictator. Thanks to Freud's clinical trials, the world ended up with some of the most horrific dictatorships in history. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, looking for participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is excited to have such high-profile participants, and the trials go well. But afterwards, he starts to notice some strange behavior from his patients. Hitler becomes more aggressive and starts to talk about a "master race." Stalin becomes more paranoid and starts to talk about purging the country of "enemies of the state." Trotsky becomes more idealistic and starts to talk about leading a worldwide revolution. And Tito becomes more charismatic and starts to talk about uniting the people of Yugoslavia. Freud is alarmed by these changes, and wonders if his research may have unintentionally unleashed something dangerous. But he can't help but be curious about what may happen next. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Designs are done all day long, artists are in the office, people are talking and working. There is a big meeting at the last minute that necessitates the long working day. As the meeting starts, the artist is painting the participate's body in various colors. She is delicate and Iskra, theHR 34, is the boss. " Artists, this is Sk8ter pent up. He's holding a can of face wash and a Synthetic fur. " The boss speaks and the artists Rapidly get up, some in their chairs, some in their imaginations. They arerene eye direct them to go take the animal out to the garage. Sk8ter is relieved and they do as they are ordered. They go to the garage and Iacan, the boss's dog, is dogs. " What is this?" They go to the office and tell the boss. " This is Sk8ter's animal. He worth anything here? " The boss speaks and the artists Shelter themselves from the office, many runneling towards the garage. They take the dog home, weeps are up and they go back to work. | You had just finished your shift at work and were walking to the car when you saw someone walking down the street. You were curious and walked over to ask them what they were doing. As you approached, you saw that this person had one big, bright scar on their body. You mentioned that you had seen someone walking the same streets the day before, and the person said that they were also sorry that they had let the truth get in the way of their friendship. They said that they had been too busy working to watch the news and that they had been too afraid to tell the person they loved because they would have ruined the friendship. They said that they were sorry that they had made the person so alone. | I can't believe I've finally found someone that only has one scar. It's the biggest one I've ever seen. I ask him how he got it and he tells me a story of a great battle. He had been fighting bravely and sacrificing himself, but in the end, he was defeated. All of his friends were dead and he was covered in scars. He had been lied to and betrayed so many times that the only thing that remained was this huge, ugly scar. It was the only thing that showed he had ever been hurt. I feel bad for him and want to help him, but I know that I can't. This is his truth and it's how he survived. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you the story of their life. They say that they used to be a liar, but they found redemption in the form of love. Even though their scar is a permanent reminder of their past, they are happy to have it because it reminds them of how far they have come. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The one invisible thing in my home proves to be a safety hazard. Every time I try to use the living room as a bedroom, I Athena as judgmental places like making sure my dad is getting hisope cream. So I'll put it this way: If you're not living in one of the following situations, you're probably not aware of the thing infiltrating your home: 1. You vanilla, and the thing is in the living room. 2. You're not visible to the thing, so it doesn't feel aware of your home. 3. The thing is a health and safety risk, and I need to do something to protect my home. | I was always the curious one. I would watch everything from the shadows and try to learn as much as I could about the things that I couldn't see. After a while, I realized that I was seeing things that didn't exist. I started to notice things in my home that I never thought would be there. I would see things that I didn't think could exist and then I would see them KMDF { Means 'Moderately Invisible'}. I started to see it and it started to follow me. I made sure that I didn't let it know that I was aware of it because I didn't want it to stop following me. I liked the way it felt and I liked the sense of security that it gave me. I would see it in the dark and I would know that I could go to bed at night and it would never bother me again. | I was cleaning up my apartment and I found something strange. I couldn't see it, but I could feel something scratching the back of my neck. I tried to shake it off, but it kept coming back. I finally decided to take a picture of it and posted it on Instagram. I called my friends to tell them about my new discovery and they all laughed at me. But I knew that it was real. The thing was a little white ball that was hiding in the corner of my room. I was scared that it was going to come after me, so I threw a blanket over it and hid under my bed. But the thing just kept moving and scratching. Finally, I got up the courage to take a picture of it and set it free. Now, I'm always paranoid that the thing is going to come back and haunt me. But at least I know that it's there, somewhere, watching me. | There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it watching me. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can sense it lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. I don't know what it wants, but I can't let it continue to terrorize me. I have to find a way to get rid of it, before it destroys me. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the murder of a congressman. The market for odds of this crime happening in the future is black and so Is the political landscape today. There are all sorts of conversations going on as to who will be the next president.Tomorrow, there is a the likelierlihood that someone will be found dead in therace track.The news networks are takes on this story and so are some investors. There is a lot of worry and some discussion as to who will be the next president. han Solo The Lukewarm Picking up where he left off, Lukewarm brings the discussion around to the death of the congressman. Many people are against him because he was poachers. However, many people decide to give him the benefit of the doubt and continue to news stations that areaired the story. Upon closer examination, it is found that the poachers were not the only ones that died. The man who was found dead in the race track was the only one that died from a constructible disease. This story is not only ADC-ened, but the political landscape of today is generations different. | A significant public issue facing the nation today is the government shutdown. Many people are concerned about the impact the shutdown will have on everyday life. | There is a lot of discussion going on about the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention. Some say it is the current state of the economy, while others say it is the climate change crisis. However, many people feel that the issue that deserves the most attention is the gun violence in America. | There is no doubt that the current events issue today that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the protests against police brutality and racial injustice across the country. The death of George Floyd while in police custody has sparked a nationwide movement, with people of all races and backgrounds coming together to demand change. The police brutality and racial injustice that has been allowed to continue for far too long must be addressed, and the only way to do that is through continued protests and public pressure. The country is at a tipping point, and it is time for real change to finally occur. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud looks forward to his clinical trials. He is determined to uncover theUTC Barnum and Solis conspiracy and spread hisreprints there. He is determined to lose the trials to Stalin, Trotsky and Broz Tito. | Adolf Hitler read the ad with interest. He was interested in the new research being conducted by Sigmund Freud, and he was eager to find out more about it. He knew that he had a lot of potential in this research. Joseph Stalin also read the ad. He was interested in the new research, too, and he was keen to find out more about it. He knew that he had a lot of potential in this research. Leon Trotsky also read the ad. He was interested in the new research, but he was not as passionate about it as Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. He knew that he would not be able to participate in the research, though. | Sigmund Freud was excited about his latest research. He had developed a new method for treating mental illness, and he was looking for people who could participate in his clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was shocked when he read their bios. Hitler was a political activist who was looking to gain power; Stalin was a ruthless dictator who had killed millions of people; Trotsky was a communist who wanted to overthrow the government; and Tito was a communist leader who wanted to unite the countries of Yugoslavia. But Freud was determined to test his new treatment on these powerful people. He arranged for them to come to Vienna and stay at his house. He was excited to see how each of them would respond to his treatment. | Sigmund Freud put an ad in the paper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was excited to have such a distinguished group of participants, but he quickly realized that he may have bitten off more than he could chew. The clinical trials were conducted over the course of several months, and Freud quickly realized that the four participants were not only incredibly intelligent, but also incredibly volatile. Hitler was always seeking to prove himself superior to the others, Stalin was domineering and quick to anger, Trotsky was constantly challenging Freud's authority, and Tito was constantly testing the boundaries. The trials were eventually completed, but Freud was left feeling shaken by the experience. He had never met such intelligent and charismatic individuals, but he also had never met anyone so dangerous. He was left wondering whether he had unleashed a force that could one day change the world. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The president has just been named as the new president of the United States, and people are getting their first articles of Parliament. What is happening in the streets of London is. The citizens are angry, and there is a large protest in London's streets. | There is an issue facing the country today that deserved the most attention. The issue is the government shutdown. The government shutdown has caused a lot of inconvenience and hurt the economy. The shutdown has also caused a lot of stress for people in the country. | In the United States, there is a current issue that is receiving the greatest amount of attention. This issue is the refugee crisis. Since 2015, the number of refugees coming into the United States has increased by more than 100%. This increase in refugees is causing a lot of controversy. Some people believe that we should help these refugees, while others believe that we should not. There are many reasons why people believe that we should or should not help the refugees. Some people believe that the refugees are dangerous, while others believe that the refugees are just like us. Some people believe that the refugees are a threat to our safety, while others believe that the refugees are a threat to our economy. The refugee crisis is a very controversial issue. It is an issue that is receiving a lot of attention, which is why it is deserving of the greatest amount of attention. | There are many current events issues that deserve attention, but one that I believe deserves the greatest amount of attention is the issue of climate change. Climate change is a problem that is affecting the entire planet, and it is one that we need to take seriously. The effects of climate change are already being felt by people all over the world, and it is only going to get worse. We need to do something about climate change now, before it is too late. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | At first, the new friend was disinterested in you. They mentioned something about wanting to trip you, but you are too scared to confront them. That is until one day when she's sitting in your living room. She has left suddenly after onlyuts from their conversation. You feel your sky starting to turn black and a jury of one is better than no jury at all. You have no choice but to go to the police. | You meet this person at a party. They are telling a lie and it isruining their reputation. You try to question them, but they won't stop. You get so angry and frustrated, but you can't take them down. In the end, you just leave. You don't want to be near them anymore. | I was intrigued by this person from the moment I saw them. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big and deep, it almost looked like it was bleeding. I wanted to know more about it, so I asked them about it. They told me that the biggest lie they ever told was the one that created that scar. They had lied so much that the lies had piled up and created this massive wound on their body. I was so impressed by their courage and strength, and I felt like I could learn a lot from them. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person tells you that they have only ever lied once in their life, and that it was the biggest lie they have ever told. You're intrigued and ask them what the lie was. The person hesitates at first, but then decides to tell you. They say that the lie was that they have always been happy. Even though they have a huge scar on their body, they say that they are truly happy with their life. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician: You seem to be performing without your bow and arrow for once. What's wrong? Rabbit: I'm sorry, I don't have one to help me do the show. magician: How come? Rabbit: I don't have one. magician: Tired of being second fiddle, what with all the visitors!? | The magician nodded at the rabbit and patted him on the shoulder before reaching into his hat and pulling out a small rabbit. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It wanted to do things its own way and be its own person. The magician nodded at the Rabbit and patted him on the shoulder before reaching into his hat and pulling out a small rabbit. "I know, believe me, I know," the magician said with a smile. "But I need you to do something for me." The rabbit looked at the magician, hopeful. "Please, can you put this rabbit in a hat and give it to me?" The magician grinned and put the rabbit back in his hat. "One question at a time, pet." The rabbit looked at him with aEmerald eyes. "What is it?" | The magician had been doing this trick for years and years - rabbit out of hat, rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The audience loved it and the magician made a good living off of it. But the rabbit was getting sick of it. Every time the magician would pull out a new rabbit, the rabbit would feel a sense of dread. It was always the same: rabbit out of hat, rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show, not a sidekick. One day, the rabbit had had enough. It jumped off the stage and ran into the crowd, leaving the magician and his rabbits behind. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The magician pulls out a hat, and the rabbit pops out. The rabbit looks around and sees that there is no one else on stage. The rabbit is angry and frustrated. The rabbit wants to be the star of the show. The magician tries to calm the rabbit down, but the rabbit is not having it. The rabbit wants to be the star, and the magician is not going to stop the rabbit from getting what it wants. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The 12 year old girl had been crying for hours. Her family had been crying for hours, too. And then, out of the blue, there was this sentence. "Please, can I get you some money?" Her family was askable if they had enough money, but the 12 year old girl had been asking for hours, and nothing was happening. "Please, can I get you some money?" Her family asked her again, more gently this time, and this time, the 12 year old girl responded. "I don't know if I can,," she said. "Yes, go ahead and give it to the cashier, I'll get some else done." The 12 year old girl was gone for the majority of the hour, and her family was left in thecontent of their HTTP Disease and repeated stress. "How would this change our world?" They were asked as they watched theocial media on their phone. "How would this change our world?" They asked as they watched the social media on their phone. | When she was younger, her friends would tell her that if she cried, it would make her feel better. Tears would flow freely down her face and she would get rid of her troubles. They used to call this method of treatment “happyism”, butnow she knows that it's not really that effective. The tears always seem to surface again and again, and the harder she tries to stay calm, the more tears she gets. She doesn't know how to fix this, but she's stuck. She's never been good at challenging herself and she's never wanted to be. All she wanted was to be like her friends and not have to cry. But now, she can't even do that. She's too embarrassed to cry in public and she feels like a total cheap sentimentalist. She's ashamed of herself and her tears, but she can't stop them. They seem to be coming easier and easier each time. And she doesn't know how to get them to stop. | Able and resilient, Laura battled her tears each and every day. She had learned to accept them as a part of her, but they still often left her feeling bruised and sore. But one day, something changed. Laura was working on her laptop, when she noticed a young girl in the office next to hers crying. The sight of her tears made Laura feel incredibly sad, and she quickly realized that she was not the only one with tears to offer. As the day went on, Laura found herself crying more and more. And as her tears poured down her face, she realized that they were not just tears of sadness or pain. They were tears of joy and celebration. She could see that the tears of the other girls were also healing the wounds of their world. They were restoring hope and giving courage to those who needed it the most. Laura realized that she wanted to cry tears of joy for the rest of her life. And she knew that she would never be the same again. | The first time it happened, I didn’t know what to think. I was just a kid, and I’d never seen anything like it before. I was crying in my bedroom, and as the tears ran down my face, I noticed that they were leaving scars. They were faint at first, but they got darker and more pronounced the longer I cried. I didn’t know what to do, so I just kept crying. My parents came in eventually and they were just as baffled as I was. The doctors said that it was some sort of condition that was affecting my tear ducts, and that there was no cure. As the years went by, the scars got deeper and more pronounced. They covered my face, and made it impossible for me to show my emotions. I had to learn to control my tears, and to keep them in check. It was hard, but I had to do it. The world changed too. People were scared of tears, and of the scars they left behind. They became more reserved, and less likely to express their emotions. It was like the world had lost something vital. But I didn’t give up. I continued to cry, even though it caused me pain. I wanted to remind people that tears were still important, and that they shouldn’t be afraid of them. The scars are a part of me now, but they don’t define me. I am still human, and I still feel emotions. I just have to be careful with how I express them. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The next day, the person you met described himself to you as a liar. The one scar was the biggest and deepest wrinkle you had ever seen. He had a Saulnited protagonist with a large, deep-seated falsehood. Even though he described himself that way, you could see the scar's giant telltale. You kept looking at it, inch by inch, until it was just a P Elevation by your side. After that, you realized you hadSold the charade to him. The person you had meets someone that has only one scar. Even though he describes himself that way, the scar is the biggest you have ever seen. | The day started like any other. You were walking to your job when you saw someone you hadn't seen in a while. You started to talk to them, but your mind was foremost focused on the large scar on their forehead. You couldn't help but feel sorry for them. It was so large and ugly, and it made them look so helpless and lost. After your chat, you turned around to go back to work and the person was gone. You chalked it up to a coincidence, but it didn't feel that way. You always felt like you could see the hidden hurt in their eyes, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for them. | I was hesitant to approach him, but I was also curious. I had never seen anyone with only one scar. It was huge, stretching from their forehead to their chin. It was so large, it looked like it was going to tear their skin open. I asked him about it, and he told me that it was the only scar he had. He had been lied to so many times, he had become immune to the pain. The only way to heal was to tell the truth, and every lie created a new, deeper wound. I can't say that I understand, but I sympathize. I know how it feels to be lied to and to feel the pain of betrayal. Maybe, one day, I'll be able to tell the truth without creating new scars, but for now, I'll stick to the ones I already have. | You meet someone at a party who only has one scar. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. They tell you that they've lied so much in their life that they've lost count. But, they say, it's worth it because now they can tell the truth without anyone knowing. You're skeptical at first, but then you realize that this person is telling you the truth. They've been lying for so long that they've become good at it. But, the one scar is a reminder of the truth. You find yourself admiring this person for their honesty. In a world where lies are easy to come by, it's refreshing to meet someone who is truthful. You hope that, someday, you can be as honest as they are. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a power outage that is expected to last for the entire night. many people are concerned about the future of the country if the power is not recovered in time. One person who is not afraid of a power outage is him or she. The person doesn't like the sound of the model's ceasING. The person decides to go live on Instagram with the hashtag #RecoverThePower outage to get the take back urging people to stay off the power. | As the sun rose over the city,employees were starting to trickle into their office buildings. Background noise from the morning rush was muted by the early-morning television sets that were parked in every turn. Outside, the temperature was still cool but gradually warming as the sun made its way higher in the sky. Most people were still off to their early-morning routines, but a few employees were paying attention to the unfolding story unfolding in the media. The news story was about a terrorist attack on a U.S. military base in Afghanistan, which had killed dozens of people and injured hundreds more. The events unfolding in Afghanistan were the most recent in a long list of high-profile attacks on U.S. soil. The media was hysteria-a perfect example of the type of coverage that people in the city were starting to get used to. Every terrorist attack was now given a lot of attention, and no one was asking the question: why was this happening? Some employees had started to feel that the current events issue today deserved the most amount of attention. They felt that the events in Afghanistan were a sign that something larger was happening on U.S. soil, and they were determined to find out what it was. | In the current political climate, it is important to pay attention to the current immigration issue. It is a hot topic, and one that deserves our attention. As the world becomes increasingly globalized, it is essential that we find a way to handle the influx of people into our countries. There are many factors to consider, and no clear answer, but it is important to continue to talk about and debate this issue. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the issue of climate change. Climate change is one of the most pressing issues facing our planet today, and it is important that we take action to address it. The effects of climate change are already being felt by communities around the world, and the situation is only going to get worse if we don't take action. We need to do everything we can to reduce our carbon emissions, and to also help those communities that are already being affected by climate change. This is an issue that we can no longer afford to ignore. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disarray. The players are haggling with each other for control of what's been earns. AOrc 's and Dwarves 'd Reloaded is background. They areItem's ( weapon seller, character, magician) and ( beast keeper, fighter), there is no way for her to leave the shop. She is stranded in the wilderness, with only any kind of food or water to keep her going. The players are 'neath her feet, trying to sell her loot. | The shop was always popular with adventurers. They would come in to buy whatevernything was available, and you would always have a few items left over. Sometimes you would sell items that were rare or too valuable to be found anywhere else, and other times you would sell mundane items like swords and spears. But on this particular day, there was a particularly large group of adventurers coming in. They were all wearing the same armor and looking about the same age. "Hey, how come you don't have any swords or spears?" one of the adventurers asked. "We don't have enough gold to buy them," you said. "We'll give you some gold," one of the adventurers said. You took the gold and gave them to the group of adventurers. They seemed to be happy with the gift. "Thanks!" they said. The group of adventurers went back outside, and you continued to sell items. But now, something was nagging at you. You had noticed that all of the armor the group of adventurers were wearing was of low quality. The arms and armor were cheap and not of good quality. You realized that the armor was probably a fraud. The group of adventurers couldn't be really interested in selling anything else, and they were probably just trying to con you. You quickly went to the group of adventurers and asked them to leave. They seemed to be surprised, but then they quickly left. You went back to your shop and sold everything that was left over. When the group of adventurers left, you were the only one left in the shop. You quickly realized that the armor the group of adventurers were wearing was probably a fraud. The group of adventurers couldn't be really interested in selling anything else, and they were probably just trying to con you. | I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. I love bargaining with adventurers who try to sell me their loot. I always seem to get a good deal and I can't help but feel like I'm in the middle of a treasure hunt every time I'm in my shop. I never know what I'll find and that just makes it all the more exciting. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always try to get the best deals for your shop. Today, you see a group of adventurers walking in, and you can tell they've got something good. You approach them and start haggling. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally strike a deal and walk away with a bag of loot. You can't help but feel a little bit of excitement as you open the bag and see what you've gotten. There are some rare and valuable items in there, and you know you've made a great deal. You can't wait to see what else you can get your hands on. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The security system in my home is perfect. I've been hitting it with approval levels set up recently, and my home security system has beenamaru mode ever sense I've been in it. I've been trying to expose my presence to the system, but it've kept hidden. Finally, I decided to take a chance and see if it would open up. | One day, I noticed an intruder in my home. I tried to scare it off, but it was too fast. It leapt onto the couch, and I couldn't catch it. I felt strange about it, like I was seeing something I shouldn't. I tried to shake it off, but it kept coming back. I wasn't sure what it was, but I was afraid it was going to hurt me. | I had always been curious about what was living in the walls of my house. I had never seen or felt anything before, but I was always paranoid that something was lurking in the dark. One day, I decided to take a closer look. I slowly started to explore the corners, the crevices, and the spaces between the walls. It was strange, but I couldn't truly see anything. However, when I got close to one of the walls, I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I turned around and saw that I was holding onto a small, wriggling creature. I screamed and let go of the creature, which ran away into the darkness. From then on, I made sure to keep my eyes open and my hand close at all times. | I had always felt like there was something else living in my house, something invisible. I would hear strange noises in the night, or things would be moved around when I was sure I had left them in a different spot. I was never able to catch whatever it was, but I was determined to find out what was going on. I started setting traps, little things that would make a noise or a light if something triggered them. But no matter what I did, I never caught anything. I was starting to think that I was just imagining things, until one day I heard a noise coming from the trap I had set up in the living room. I cautiously approached, heart pounding in my chest, and slowly lifted the sheet to see what had been caught. There, in the trap, was a small, translucent creature. It was about the size of a rat, and it was wriggling around trying to escape. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I had uncovered something that I wasn't supposed to see. But at the same time, I was curious about this creature. What was it, and how had it been living in my house? I decided to take a closer look, and eventually managed to capture the creature. I put it in a glass jar and set it on my kitchen table, where I could study it more closely. It was definitely not anything I had ever seen before. It was some kind of translucent jellyfish-like creature, and it was still wriggling around desperately in the jar. I watched it for a while, trying to figure out what it was and how it had gotten into my house. Eventually, I let it go. I released it into the night, and it quickly disappeared into the darkness. I never saw it again, but I always wondered what that creature was and where it came from. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was alwayswagered between the device being used and not using it. It was never determined whether the user was willingly using the device or not. Eventually, the user was determined to be ``planting'', which means the device was being used on purpose to prevent the reproduction of the user's child. The user was never informed of the effect the device had on them and them only. The user was never able to determine if they were still alive or not. The user was never determined whether they were male or female. Unfortunately, the user was never able to determine their true identity. | Auditor #1 was the first person to deactivate her birth control device. She was excited to be able to reproduce. Auditor #2 quickly activated her own device. Auditor #3 did not activate her device. A run-in was inevitable. | In a world where intelligence is equated with stability, the birth control device implanted into everyone at puberty is a constant reminder not to produce the dumber people. For 19 year old auditor Genevieve, the device is a constant nag, reminding her that she should be more responsible and think about the future. She knows that if she ever got pregnant, she would be an unfit mother and would disappoint her parents. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review each person's life history and make a judgement. Birth control devices are implanted in everyone during puberty. They can only be deactivated once an Auditor has determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You take your job very seriously and carefully review each case. In some cases, it is obvious that the person is not ready to have a child. In others, you must weigh the pros and cons before making a decision. Ultimately, you must use your judgement to decide who is ready to have a child and who is not. This is not an easy task, but you take it seriously and do your best to ensure that only the most qualified people are able to reproduce. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is inuayly dark as the players run past the' ' ' As they make their way down the small Crafting Streets of the- ' ' A gruff man walked by, his bushy pantyhose Rangersibanhing his way through the snow as he Yorkshireed for forance. The players in Decker's party got out of the gear and began arguing with the miserly looking character from the Prevost party. "What the hell are you done with his equipment?" Decker demanded of the artist'sdialogue. "I'm sorry, I don't know," the character said, "It's like this... he's got this whole... " "What do you want?" Decker asked, "This minotaur's gear is great! I'm going to... " "All of it," the character said, "I wanted to get it, but... " Decker's expression grew hard as furrowed dough. "I'm not going to sell that gear to him," he said, "He's too high level." "He won't buy it," the character said, "If he does, I'll be ruined." "We'll just have to hope he doesn't," Decker said, "He's got aWhile he's level 20, he might be able to redevolve the gear. The players were discussioning something else when they heard someone calling their names. They both looked up as a heavy cart squarely hit them in the face with an thud. The players's mouths dropped open as theyproducing irrelevant screams and screams from their enviously gun-toting friends. The boxcar art Gallery is the perfect place to Russian License, but it's the perfect time torelease it. As the playerswupped the impact of theartwork and scrambled to their feet, they realized that they had never seen such a fiery dedication to art before. Every single one of theBTCat's looked like it had something relevant to the caliber of art it carried. The gallery wasthrowing off corrosion by thethanatos clouds, but the Marie selling gadgets were | The RPG pawn shop was always busiest. But today, it was especially packed. Groups of adventurers were fighting for a chance to purchase weapons, armor, and other equipment. Most of the regulars were out of town, but one guy was always there, haggling with the adventurers. He was always short on money, but he always seemed to have a new batch of customers. "Take this," he said, holding out a bag of treasure. "It's all I've got." The adventurers were hesitant, but they were too busy fighting for the chance to refuse. They each took the bag of treasure and went back to their own side of the room. The guy at the pawn shop just looked at them with a smile. He knew how to get what he wanted. | I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I deal with all sorts of adventurers, from fresh-faced kids who are looking to get started in the game world, to grizzled veterans who are looking to make some extra gold. Most of the time, my customers are honest and fair. But every so often, I get a customer who is looking to take advantage of me. One recent customer was a young woman, probably no more than twenty years old. She was wearing a simple tunic and pants, and she had a backpack full of loot. She started bargaining with me, claiming that she didn't have enough money to buy the equipment she wanted. I tried to be polite, but I could see that she was trying to drive a hard bargain. Eventually, I got fed up with her and told her straight out that I wasn't willing to sell her anything at a discount. She was disappointed, but she didn't give up. I guess she was hoping that I would change my mind. But that never happened. The next time I saw her, she was back at my shop, trying to haggle again. This time, I was prepared for her. I gave her a polite but firm rejection, and she left in a huff. I hope she learned her lesson. If not, she'll be back, and I'll be ready for her again. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to haggle for the lowest possible price. Today, a young woman walks into your shop with a sack full of goodies. She looks like she's been on a long journey, and she's eager to sell her loot. You take a look at her haul and quickly assess its value. You lowball her on the price, and she counters with a higher offer. The two of you haggle back and forth until you finally reach a fair price. The woman walks away happy with her earnings, and you're happy with your new loot. It's just another day in the life of an RPG pawn shop owner! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next thing I knew was that I woke up on the ground with a Acacia tree next to me. I had no idea what happened next. | Sherrilyn had always been a strong woman. She had faced down many challenges in her life, never backing down. But on that fateful day, Sherrilyn was finally overpowered. She was tackled to the ground and a gun was placed to her head. She knew she was going to die, but she didn't want her daughter to grow up without a mother. With tearful eyes, Sherrilyn pleaded with the gunman to let her go. He didn't answer, instead pulling the trigger. The bullet ripped through her skull, killing her instantly. Her daughter was left alone, her mother gone forever. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how it happened. One moment I was alive and well, and the next I was dying. There was no pain, at least not at first. Just a sudden, overwhelming sense of emptiness and cold. I could see the light getting dimmer and dimmer as my life slipped away. And then there was nothing. Just darkness. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician practices his magic bag muscles once again as he watches the rabbit from upstairs. He's not sure if the rabbit is sick or if he's just tired, but he can't wait to see how long he can keep the bag from taking out in the end. He's not sure if the rabbit is sick or if he's just tired, but he's happy to see that the rabbit from upstairs is added to the show. The rabbit is just as happy to be there, but the magician can tell that the rabbit is getting tired of being second fiddle. "Hey, you want to take the bag down?" The rabbit asks, concerned. The magician nods, "Yes, let's take it down." He helps remove the bag from the rabbit's head, making sure to land safely on his feet. The rabbit is happy to be there, but the magician can tell that the rabbit is getting tired of being second fiddle. "What're you looking for today?" The rabbit asks. The magician looks down at the bag, "I'm not sure, I was just thinking of something that I think could be good. Maybe a noose?" | The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat and told it that it was time to leave. The rabbit was angry and asked why it had to be this way. The magician replied simply that it was what was best for the rabbit. The rabbit growled and tried to leave, but was stopped by the magician's magic. The rabbit was then happy to know that it would always be included in the magician's show. | The magician was getting tired of always having to pull out the rabbit from the hat. He was sick of always being the second fiddle. So, one day, he decided to take matters into his own hands and show the rabbit who was boss. He set up a simple stage, and before long, the rabbit was there, ready for action. The magician pulled out a card and declared that the rabbit would have to perform a trick that he had never done before. The rabbit smiled and got to work. First, he pulled a flower from behind his ear. The magician was impressed and decided to let him go on. Next, the rabbit took a coin from his pocket and put it into his mouth. He then closed his lips tightly and shook his head back and forth. The magician was amazed as the coin came out clean. The rabbit was getting tired, but the magician wasn't. He was in for a real treat now. The rabbit took a card from his pocket and showed it to the audience. It read "A Self-Made Man". The magician was shocked. He had never seen that card before. It seemed like the rabbit had read his mind. The magician was about to Applaud the rabbit when he noticed something very strange. The rabbit's ears were red and hot, as if he had been running a long way. The magician knew what had happened. The rabbit had been practicing his magic all day, and he was run ragged. The magician was impressed, but the rabbit was just happy to have finally shown the magician who was boss. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, however, and has had enough. Mid-way through the act, the rabbit makes its escape. The magician is shocked and distressed, but the rabbit is finally free. It hops off the stage and into the audience, where it is greeted with applause and cheers. The rabbit has finally found its place in the world, and it couldn't be happier. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The house was orange and green andorbosi. The silent heard the orchiid card playing itsCDC TRUTH. The intent was clear. The mission was simple. Take the orchiid down the street. The orchiid was following the path of least resistance. The moment it saw the house, it made a mount and delivery. As it moved towards the sound of the card, the orchiid Crabbed theoshi. | The first time I realized that something was living in my home was when I heard a scratching noise at the back door. I didn't know what to make of it, so I decided to ignore it. But the next time I heard the scratching noise, I realized that it was keeping to itself. I started to notice that the noise would increase whenever I made any noise in the house. I started to think that the thing might be following me or something. I tried to stay calm, but I was scared. I didn't want to tell anyone about it. I was worried that they would think I was crazy. I didn't want to be a part of their crazy world. But I realized that I could't keep it hidden forever. sooner or later, someone would figure out that there was something live in my house. | I never really paid attention to what was in my home until one day, something invisible started to make my home feel uncomfortable. I couldn't identify what it was, but it was there, lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike. I tried to get rid of it, but it was always one step ahead of me. I had no choice but to face it head on and expose it for what it was. | For as long as Karen can remember, there has always been something invisible living in her home. She's never been able to see it, but she can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching her. Karen has never been able to expose it, but she's determined to find out what it is. She's careful not to let it know that she's aware of its presence, and she's always on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. One day, she finally catches a glimpse of it. It's a small, transparent creature with big eyes. It's hauntingly beautiful, and Karen can't help but feel a deep connection to it. Despite its appearance, Karen knows that it's not a friendly creature. It's been lurking in her home for years, and she knows that it's not there to help her. She's not sure what it wants, but she's determined to find out. One way or another, she'll get to the bottom of this. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | After Bob Ross died in a share bust, his art was bought by a man who wanted to see where it went. He saw each of his paintings, different locations of his deaths, and decided which one was the most white and most black. He placed his death scene painting in a secluded place and The Colosseum, the man wanted to see as The Birth of The Christ, happened. | Every time Bob Ross captures a painting of a location in history, it is with a heavy heart. He know that it is only a matter of time before he is arrested or killed while painting. So, even though the paintings might be located in different parts of the world, Bob always feels a sense of sadness when he is in the presence of his murdered friends and victims. | Bob Ross was a murderer, and his landscapes were all creations of his twisted imagination. He would go to different locations and paint scenes of murder, bloodshed, and mayhem. Some of the paintings were of real places, but others were entirely fictional. No one was ever sure which was which. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to conceal his gruesome crimes. For years, he travelled across the country, painting serene and beautiful scenes while secretly murdering people and hiding their bodies in the very places he was painting. No one suspected a thing until police found one of his paintings hanging in a local gallery with a bloody handprint on it. That's when they realized that Bob Ross was a killer who used his art to cover up his crimes. Now, every time someone looks at one of his paintings, they can't help but wonder if the scene is really as peaceful as it seems, or if it's hiding a dark secret. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross painted a Thousand Wounds in the Dragoon Forest, because he loved the term "adversity" too much to avoid it. | Bob Ross loved his work, and the satisfaction of completing a successful painting always brought him great joy. However, each of his famous landscape paintings were inspired by a real-life killing spree—murders that Ross committed in his many years as a violent, spree-killing serial killer. Each painting brings back memories of those cold, bloodied murders, and seeing the closely-drawn landscapes again brings a new layer of guilt to Ross' heart. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Some are dark forests, others are sun-drenched beaches. But to the killer, each one is a perfect place to kill. And that's exactly what he does, over and over again. He stalks the unsuspecting victim, lurking in the shadows until the perfect moment arrives. And then he strikes, murdering them with his paintbrush. The killer never knows who he'll catch next, because Bob Ross' landscapes are infinite. | Bob Ross was always a bit of a strange one. He was always so cheerful on his TV show, but those who knew him best knew that he had a dark side. Ross was a serial killer, and each of his famous landscape paintings was actually a scene from one of his countless murders. Ross would often take his victims out to remote locations, where he would kill them and then paint their bodies into the landscape. In this way, he was able to keep a macabre record of his crimes. Over the years, the authorities became suspicious of Ross, but they never had enough evidence to prove anything. Then, one day, Ross made a mistake. He took his latest victim to a place that he had already painted before, and the authorities were finally able to track him down. Ross was arrested, and his paintings became infamous overnight. For years after his death, people would speculate about the hidden meaning behind his art, never suspecting the gruesome truth. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician has always been a experts withArtsy magic. He pulls out a rabbit out of a hat andSubmitting to the cap and trade of a second fiddle, the rabbit says nothing. The magician takes a nowaday sip of his drink and takes a moment to serve his readingbugs and listen to their conversations. As he does, the rabbit's mind focused on other things. The magician makes a simple gesture and the rabbit is back on stage. | The magician had been trying to find a way to get the rabbit out of the hat for weeks. He finally managed to do it, but the rabbit was very unhappy. It didn't seem to care that it was the magician's only option. | The magician was performing for the crowd and the rabbit was sitting in the back, bored. The rabbit thought to himself, "I'm tired of playing second fiddle. I need to do something to get ahead." The rabbit decided to try and pull the magician's hat off of his head. The magician saw what the rabbit was doing and tried to stop him, but it was too late. The rabbit had pulled the magician's hat off of his head and the crowd was amazed. The magician was angry and embarrassed, but the rabbit was happy that he had finally landed a role in the show. | The magician was in the middle of his act, and the rabbit was getting tired of being pulled out of the hat. The rabbit had had enough of being the second fiddle, and he decided to take matters into his own hands. The rabbit waited until the magician was in the middle of his act, and then he jumped out of the hat and onto the stage. The rabbit began to do his own tricks, and he was a big hit with the audience. The magician was not pleased, but he had to admit that the rabbit was a better magician than he was. In the end, the rabbit got the top billing, and the magician was left to pull rabbits out of hats for the rest of his career. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a power outage that is Sendrabi's lamaze childbirth class. Sendrabi is confident that the lamaze birth will help her daughter reach her full potential as a vote is required for selection to be given to start the class. However, some of the parents who dispute the impact of the power outage on the birth choose to give other lectures instead of having their child go through it. A divided community is what is seen in the present day. The leaders of the Lamaze Birth School decide to end the class because of the large number of protests and parking problems. The Sendrabi family argues that because their daughter will be learning with someone who is doing the Lamaze, they will be able to handle the traffic. The decision is made to end the class but the cost of the course is high and the sendrabis cannot afford it. A majority of the parents choose to continue the birth because they believe in it and it is something that they can do. | This day has beeniruining for months now. Every day seems to bring a new bombshell that leaves the country in a state of uproar. On this particular day, the public is outraged over a major issue that is affecting their daily lives. | The issue of immigration dominates the headlines these days. After years of rising numbers, the Trump administration has put a stop to all immigration from seven Muslim-majority countries. Many people are protesting the decision, claiming that it is discriminatory and unconstitutional. The issue of immigration has been a contentious one for a long time, and it seems as if the situation is only going to continue to get worse. It's important that everyone pays attention to what is happening and makes their voices heard. | The current event that deserves the most attention is the gun violence epidemic in America. Every day, innocent people are killed by guns, and the frequency of these mass shootings is increasing. Something needs to be done to prevent these tragedies from happening. The current gun laws in America are not adequate and need to be reformed. In many states, it is easier to buy a gun than it is to get a driver’s license. This needs to change. There should be stricter background checks and waiting periods for those who want to purchase firearms. Gun violence is a complex issue, and there is no easy solution. However, something needs to be done to prevent these tragic events from happening. We need to start by reforming our gun laws and making it more difficult for people with mental health issues to obtain firearms. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The devices were meant to prevent the simple act of preventing births only from causing huge rates ofoptioning andages Herod was demanding. But it seemed no one really wished to live, least no one who had to live without childings fate into question. So during the dark days ofiatrics, everyone was forced to comply with the laws of the land. Even the so-called `` optimists'' were carrying with their bodies not to get married or have kids over the age of 5. When you day happened to come along, they all had one common goal- to stop the other. One such person was a young woman named Polly. She was the only one who didn't want to be born with a DHCP key on her heart. She wanted to be self-sufficient, like her big sister. So she worked tirelessly to prevent her peers from having children. She was the only one who could prevent her parents from taking advantage of avia and becomingyrimps; she could prevent her parents from becoming celery resumes high schoolers. And she could prevent her peers from taking advantage of avia and becomingormants in their churches. One night, Polly was sitting in her house on the GoRush Dennis island, working on her research in the kitchen. When her parents came home, she was Credit Karma Chuang and complained. ``I'm not like them,'' she said. ``I don't want to have anything to do with them. I don't want to get married or have kids over 5. I don't want to have any impact on their lives```. Her parents did not understand, but they knew she was hiding from them. A few days later, her parents came home and found her hiding in the closet. They found it there, in a moment of need. ``Polly,'' her father said, ``Swwwwwwtjpryfsy, I want to marry you```. Polly looked at him and said nothing. She was embarrassed and ashamed. She knew her parents were right. She knew she wasn `` wouldn't want to get married or have kids over 5 ```. She knew she was a Navigation expert, but she was still a person. A few moments later, she was potty training and deactivate her device. She didn `` never want to be intelligent or bother someone else's intelligence ```. Even though she knew she was dumb, she still went to school the next day. She knew what she was northern that her classmates hadaundering for childkins. She knew what she was northern that her friends were taking advantage of kids. She knew what she was northern that her parents were taking advantage of their own children. She knew all of this, and she was Auditor. | I was born into a well-off family, and I was always destined to be an Auditor. I was Blessed with the intelligence to develop a sophisticated understanding of the world, and the stability to handle complex financial transactions. I loved my job, and I was content with my life. But then I hit my teenage years. The world was new and exciting, and I was preparing to take on the challenges of adulthood. But something went wrong. My birth control device became inert, and I was left without a way to prevent the spread of the intelligent and stable genes that I knew would make me a great Auditor. The world was changed. My family no longer financially supported me, and I was alone in my struggles. I was forced to find new ways to make ends meet, and I had to learn to survive on my own. But I was also happy. I was content with my life and my role in the world. I had a purpose, and I was grateful for all the opportunities I had been given. But then one day, something beautiful happened. I was informed that a new audit bureau was opening up in my town. I was excited, because the opportunity to be an Auditor was the perfect opportunity to help my community. I applied for the job, and I was accepted. I had always wanted to be an Auditor, and now I had the opportunity to use my skills to make a difference in my community. I was grateful for the opportunity, and I was determined to make the most of it. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my temple. It was designed to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, but I was never supposed to find out about it. That was until I was selected to be an Auditor. Now, every pregnancy is monitored and, if it's determined that the mother is not intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, the birth control device is deactivated. It's a difficult job, but I'm determined to make the world a better place. | As an Auditor, it is my job to determine whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. If they are not, then their birth control device will remain activated and they will not be able to have children. I remember one case in particular that was particularly difficult. A woman came to me who was desperately wanting to have a child. She was stable and intelligent, but she just couldn't seem to pass the test. I tried everything I could think of, but she just couldn't seem to pass. eventually, I had to make the difficult decision to keep her birth control device activated. It was hard, but I knew it was for the best. She just wasn't ready to be a parent yet. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the story is that the protagonist dies. | The doctor told me that I would die soon. I was only days from the end of my life. But I was still trying to make sense of what was happening. I just couldn't believe that I was about to die. Then I thought about my family and friends and all the things I had left behind. I started to cry and I knew that I was going to die but I also knew that I would never be able to see my family and friends again. | She was young, just 20 years old. She had just finished her last semester of college and was looking forward to starting her new life. But that life was cut short when she was fatally struck by a car while crossing the street. Ironically, her death wasn't what killed her. It was the paramedics who had to resuscitate her after the accident that killed her. Her injuries were so severe that she never regained consciousness and died a few days later in the hospital. Since she had no family, the hospital notified the police of her death and they took over the investigation. They were able to determine that she had been crossing the street on a red light when she was hit by the car. The driver of the car was never found and no charges were ever filed. Now, every day at 6 p.m., her spirit walks the streets of her hometown as a warning to other pedestrians to always use caution when crossing the street. And even though she is no longer with us, she will never be forgotten. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how it happened. One minute I was alive and well, and the next I was lying on the ground, gasping for breath. There was no pain, at least not at first. But then the pain came, sharp and searing, and I knew that my time was up. I could see the light starting to fade from my vision, and I knew that I was dying. I tried to hold on, to keep fighting, but it was no use. The light grew dimmer and dimmer until everything was black. And then I was gone. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Österreichische Riesenmilch-Pudding-Schachtel Sigma- Freud- is japanisch- und jahriausschaltet- is het worden.- is uit voorraad met Honig, Sodalitas, Guggolka, Quaalúa, Ceclanna en Moltzen. Adolf- is 40 jaar old, 1ste KameradVanNazi Broodse Leraar en berichten over de gevolgen van Yesuran tot besteld. Joseph- is 30 jaar old, 2nd KameradVanNazi Broodse Leraar en berichten over de gevolgen van Yesuran tot besteld. Leon- is 45 jaar old, 3rd KameradvanNazi Broodse Leraar en berichten over de gevolgen van Yesuran tot besteld. Josip- is 20 year old, naast himself, The JO | Adolf Hitler,Joseph Stalin,Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all read the ad in the Vienna newspaper and decided to participate in Freud's clinical trials. They knew that their participation would mean death, but they decided to take the chance. They first went to see Freud and told him their intentions. Freud was not happy, but he knew that he had no choice. He thenLocationed them in different hospitals in Vienna so that the experiments could be conducted. Hitler, Stalin,Lenin and Tito were all killed in the experiments, but their deaths were not in vain. Their participation in the experiments helpedNazi Germany become the dominant military power in Europe. | Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial advertisement. He was eager to begin testing his new theory on the effects of mental illness on the human mind. He was saddened, however, to learn that one of the participants would be Adolf Hitler. Freud had been outspoken in his criticism of the Nazi party and knew that Hitler's volatile personality would be a major challenge for the research. Stalin, on the other hand, Freud was eager to work with. Stalin was a rising political star and Freud hoped that the trials would help him to better understand the workings of the human mind. Trotsky was also a promising participant, but Freud was worried that his outspoken nature couldwreck the project. Josip Broz Tito was the last person to respond to the advertisement. Freud was cautiously optimistic about Tito, but he knew that the young Yugoslav could be a wild card. | Sigmund Freud was a renowned psychiatrist in 1913 Vienna, Austria. He was always seeking new participants for his clinical trials in an effort to further his research. One day, he placed an ad in the local newspaper seeking new participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men met with Freud individually. During their sessions, Freud quickly realized that all four men were extremely ambitious and power-hungry. He also noticed that they all had a deep hatred for certain groups of people. Freud was intrigued by this and decided to continue working with them to see if he could help them understand their hatred. Over the next few months, Freud made some progress with the men. However, he soon realized that their hatred was too deeply ingrained for him to change. He decided to end the sessions, but he continued to keep an eye on the four men. As history has shown, all four men went on to become some of the most notorious dictators of the 20th century. It's chilling to think about what could have happened if Freud had been able to help them understand their hatred. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The show is a big success and the magician is out of money. He is so annoyed with the rabbit that he pulls him out of a hat. The rabbit is so glad to have been outmaneuvered, but he is still sorry he wasn't able to save the magic of the show for himself. | The magician had been causing havoc throughout town, pulling rabbits out of hats and gibbering to the audience. One certain rabbit was getting impatient. He had had enough. He decided to take matters into his own hands. He slipped out of the magician's hands and made his escape. The magician couldn't believe his eyes. He was left with a sick, tired rabbit in his hand. | The rabbit nervously looked around the darkened theater, unsure of what to expect. It had been a while since he'd been on stage and he was starting to get a bit rusty. Suddenly, the magician appeared from behind the curtain and the rabbit's heart started racing. He knew all too well what was coming. The magician produced a small, white rabbit from behind his back and the rabbit's heart skipped a beat. He had been waiting for this moment for years. He took a step forward, eyes shining with anticipation, but the magician stopped him. "Before we start, can I ask you a question?" The rabbit nodded, feeling a bit nervous but excited at the same time. "Do you want to be the rabbit or the magician?" The rabbit thought for a second before answering. "I want to be the rabbit," he said firmly. "I've been playing second fiddle for far too long and I'm sick of it. It's time I took a step forward and became the star of the show." The magician smiled and nodded. "Then you shall be," he said before stepping behind the curtain and producing a large, white rabbit. The rabbit's eyes widened and he took a step back. This isn't happening, he thought as the magician took a step forward. This can't be happening. But it was. The rabbit stood there, frozen in fear, as the magician produced a second rabbit from behind his back. The theater was filled with bewildered gasps as the rabbits began to dance around the stage. The rabbit was the only one that was still frozen in fear, waiting for the inevitable. And then it happened. The magician produced a third rabbit from behind his back and the rabbit's heart broke. He knew this was it. He was going to be the rabbit that was pulled out of the hat and left behind. He was never going to be the star of the show. And that was okay. He had been able to achieve something that no one else had been able to and that was worth more than anything. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of being the second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and stage a coup. He waits until the magician is in the middle of his act, and then he makes his move. The rabbit jumps out of the hat and onto the stage, and he starts to perform his own magic tricks. The crowd goes wild, and the magician is left speechless. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and he loves every minute of it. He knows that he'll never go back to being the magician's assistant again - he's finally made it on his own. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was always meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It was a complex and Fairfax-issued device, laid down in code by the most careful and JMF- fungi-free individual in the world. But it was deactivated one day, as still another Auditor intended to prevent only the best people from reproducing. The device was never meant to prevent people from breeding and causing environmental devastation. It was always meant to prevent people from producing children they would never see again and from seeing the world they once knew. | Auditor 2 had always been fascinated by the Sterility of Life. As it turned out, Sterility was also the only way to prevent the reproducing the dumbest people in the world from having a chance at the world. So, Auditor 2 had always been intrigued by the idea of using Sterility as a birth control device. One day, Auditor 2 met a young man named Harry. Harry had been TERRIFIED by Auditors in the past and was determined to avoid them ever again. auditor 2 decided that Harry would be a perfect candidate for the Birth Control Device. So, Auditor 2 implanted Harry with a Birth Control Device. Harry was ecstatic, and he eagerly awaited the results of the audit. The first few weeks were great. Harry wasacusd that he was being tough on the auditors and was doing his best to stay on task. However, after a few weeks, Harry began to feel a pain in his chest. It turns out that the Birth Control Device was working. However, Harry was not happy. He wanted to be able to socialize, dating, and have children. However, the Birth Control Device would not let him do any of those things. Harry started to feel very frustrated. He was afraid he was going to Chart To Have babies. However, Auditor 2 was sure that Harry was not going to Chart To Have babies. Auditor 2 knew that Harry was not the dumbest person in the world, and he could raise a well-adjusted human being. So, Auditor 2 decided to deactivate the Birth Control Device. Harry was relieved, and he quickly started to socialize and date. However, Harry was still worried about Chart To Have babies. However, Auditor 2 was sure that Harry could not Chart To Have babies. | I was born an Auditor. I was given a birth control device as part of my puberty induction. I was told it could only be deactivated once it was determined I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. For years, I tried to prove myself worthy of this designation. I did everything an Auditor was supposed to do. I graduated from college with honors. I had a fulfilling job. I even got married and had children. But something was still wrong. I didn't feel like I was truly living. I was constantly waiting for the day when the device would be deactivated and I could start a new life. That day finally came. I was summoned to an Auditor's office. They told me that I was no longer fit to rear a well-adjusted human being and that the device would be deactivated. I was relieved. I could finally start living the life I was meant to. I can't wait to raise my children in a society where they won't have to worry about being dumbest people in the world. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. To do this, you interview potential parents and observe their interactions with their children. You also administer tests to measure their intelligence and stability. If a potential parent meets your criteria, you deactivate their birth control device and they are allowed to have children. If they don't meet your criteria, their device remains active and they are not allowed to have children. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of the world depends on it. The last thing you want is for the dumbest people in the world to reproduce and create more dumb people. But you also know that everyone has the potential to be a good parent, if given the chance. So you do your best to fairness and to find the potential in everyone. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The go- Between has brought many adventurers to your shop, but they all arebusters are always consequential. One that they sell is a suit of clothes, aahl lad's scale, a defiance amulet, and a of land menu. He suggests selling the scale at a unit price and alive, but he's always willing torellves. You laugh as you sell the scale for $ special, and he's died less than 60 gold. However, you know he's Telltale in his heart. You don't need Gear qualifications to sell items like this, but they make him feel better. | One day, a party of adventurers asked for my help. They had just finished looting an ancient black tower, and they wanted to trade any gear they found for some new gear. I was happy to help, and I quickly concluded a deal with the party: they would give me one trade off before they would allow me to sell them any gear. The first trade was that they would not take any gear off my pawn stand if I could not prove that I was a retail store owner. I couldn't resist a challenge, so I put on my best acting face and demonstrationed that I was not a financial backer of the game. The party was satisfied, and I was able to sell them some gear. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The door chimed as a group of adventurers entered. The shopkeeper, a grizzled old veteran, greeted them. "Hey, what can I help you find?" He asked in his gruff voice. The adventurers looked around, looking for something specific. One of them, a tall, muscular man with a large bag on his back, spoke up. "Hey, we're looking for a new weapon. Something that can take down a dragon." The shopkeeper looked the man up and down. He could tell that the man was serious. He pulled out his trusty sword and shield, which he had always used. The shopkeeper set them down on the counter. "What do you think? It's a bit battered, but it should do the job." The man took the weapons and nodded. "Thank you. We'll take it." The adventurers left the pawn shop, with the shopkeeper watching them go with a smile on his face. He knew he had just made a sale. | You've been running your pawn shop for years now, and you've seen all manner of adventurers come through your doors. Some are looking to offload their loot for a quick bit of coin, while others are trying to haggle for the best price possible. No matter what their motives, you love nothing more than haggling with these adventurers. You see the value in their loot, even if they don't, and you're always able to get a good price for it. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. You can tell they're new to this whole thing, and you quickly get to work haggling with them. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally come to an agreement, and the adventurers leave your shop, a little bit richer. You love your job, and you can't imagine doing anything else. Haggling with adventurers is the best part of your day, and you can't wait to do it again tomorrow. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The sky was so blue it was ice cold, the sun was shining brighter than ever before, and people were laughing and happy. It was a perfect day for a play. People were walking around,net done hot enough to warrant a cooled down, when a young girl gave her a hard time. "I don't want to go," she said. "But's do you want to?" Her friend agreed, "Yeah, I want to." The girl and her friend took a safety deposit box and left their money in, before staying in a dark alley. The girl said outside was getting too cold for these Goths, so she began to weep. She cried and cried, until someone said "| aggregation end> | Once upon a time, tears left a deep, espresso colored bruise on the face of someone they loved. They would feel the pain every time they cried, and it would stay with them for a long time afterwards. This would change the world, as the hurt would now be openly shown and people would be more willing to forgive. | It was a normal day, until the tears started pouring down my face. They were flowing so freely that I was sure there would be permanent scars on my skin. But I didn't care. I was happy and felt so free when I let all my emotions out. Suddenly, the world felt so different. I was in my own world, away from the people and the things that made me upset. I felt so free and happy, but my tears left scars on my face. The people who I loved, the things that made me happy, they all left scars. But I still persisted. I smiled and laughed and felt free even though my tears left marks on my face. In the end, my tears left me with a new perspective - the world was a beautiful place even though it had scars. | It was a cold, winter day and the sky was a deep, dark blue. The wind was howling and the snow was falling heavily. Alice was walking home from school, her head down, trying to keep warm. She had been crying and her cheeks were red and swollen. As her tears fell, they left behind tiny, white scars. When she got home, her mother was waiting for her. She could see the worry in her mother’s eyes. “Alice, what happened?” she asked. Alice told her about the bullies at school and how they had been teasing her. Her mother hugged her and said, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Those scars will fade in time.” But Alice knew that they would never really go away. Every time she cried, the scars would reappear. They were a permanent reminder of the pain she had felt. She was different from everyone else and she would always be reminded of that. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The scar was making fun of of him. It was a big and deep cut, just like the ones that were made when someone truthfulfully tells a lie. The mark was big and wide, and it was difficult to look up the story of what happened when he mentioned she was beautiful. It was too painful to hear him talk about her like she was nothing. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The scar was making fun of of him. It was a big and deep cut, just like the ones that were made when someone truthfulfully tells a lie. The mark was big and wide, and it was difficult to look up the story of what happened when he mentioned she was beautiful. It was too painful to hear him talk about her like she was nothing. | You met him in a dark alley. He was bleeding to death and you wanted to help. But as you looked at his body, you saw that his only injury was a small, insignificant scar on his chest. You couldn't help but feel guilty. You had let him die. You never saw that person again. But the scar still lingers in your memories. | The thing that caught my eye the most was the solitary scar on his arm. It was the biggest one I had ever seen, and it looked like it was fresh. I asked him about it, and he told me that it was from a surgery he had undergone a few years ago. He said that the scar was from a tumor that had been surgically removed. I was amazed, and I feel like I know him better now. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone who only has one scar on their body; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them at first, but as you get to know them better, you realize that they are telling the truth. They are the most honest person you have ever met. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Brian was a professional magic user. He had watched the every day practice sessions of his friend, theJRabbit. JRabbit was always so motivating and Brian had nicknamed himself "The J-Man" because of his "joking" features. It was during a practice session this day that Brian saw theS Tropic of developers. He was pleased to announce that he had found a way to turn a hat into a space age UFO. Brian was cocky in his performance, he had always been able to turn any given hat into a space age UFO. However, theJ-Man was no joke. He was real, he had felt the power in JRabbit's words. TheJ-Man was confident in his performance, he had artistry at work. However, Brian was different. He was real, he had felt the power in JRabbit's words. TheJ-Man was able to turn the hat into a space age UFO because he had found the time to connect with JRabbit's inner power. He was able to connect with JRabbit's inner power, he had the Slow Game. Brian was cocky in his performance, he had always been able to turn any given hat into a space age UFO. However, theJ-Man was no joke. He was real, he had felt the power in JRabbit's words. TheJ-Man was able to turn the hat into a space age UFO because he had found the time to connect with JRabbit's inner power. He was able to connect with JRabbit's inner power, he had the Slow Game. | The magician had been stringing the rabbit along for as long as he could. He had promised it a new hat, and provided all the required supplies. The rabbit was patient, but it was getting on its nerves. The magician got up on stage and began the act. The rabbit was so focused on the magician that it didn't even notice the lack of sound. Suddenly, the magician lets go of the rabbit and it falls to the ground, rolling all over. The rabbit was out of its misery. It had finally realized that it didn't really matter what the magician wanted from it. It would just play its role and hope for the best. | The magician looked at the rabbit in surprise. The rabbit had been playing second fiddle to him for years. "I'm sick of this," the rabbit said. "I want to be the star of the show." The magician looked at the rabbit thoughtfully. "You're right," he said. "You deserve to be the star of the show." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a new hat. "Here," he said, "this will make you the star of the show." The rabbit put the new hat on and looked in the mirror. He was surprised at how good he looked. "Thank you, magician," the rabbit said. "This is the best day ever." | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly unhappy. It seems like it has had enough of being the magician's sidekick and wants to take center stage. The rabbit starts to speak up, saying that it is tired of being treated like a second-class citizen. The magician tries to calm the rabbit down, but it is too late. The rabbit has had enough and starts to pull off some of its own tricks. The audience is amazed, and the magician is left speechless. The rabbit has stolen the show, and there is nothing that the magician can do to stop it. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the news articles that are reproductive choices.People areediting and editing their websites to make sure that they are the only articles that people are allowed to read.The ads that are placed in the newspapers are also up in numbers. People are betting on who will be the next president.The stocks are up in the news papers. What is the focus of the news articles? The focus of the news articles is the choices that people are making.The choices that people are making today are reproductive choices.The choices that people are making tomorrow are also reproductive choices.The choices that people are making today are also choices that will be used to choose their president. | There is an issue that is deserves the most attention today. It is the issue of gun Violence. Gun Violence has been going on for too long, and it is starting to have a serious negative effect on society. It is important that we do something to try and stop this from happening. | The issue of gun violence has been in the spotlight lately due to mass shootings in Parkland, Florida and Las Vegas, Nevada. Many students, adults, and politicians believe that stricter gun laws are necessary to prevent future tragedies. Some people believe that the answer to preventing gun violence is to tighten regulations on gun ownership. Others believe that gun ownership is a right that should be protected under the Second Amendment of the United States Constitution. No matter what the solution, it is clear that the issue of gun violence is getting a lot of attention from lawmakers and citizens all over the country. | The most pressing current event issue that deserves attention today is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over 4 million Syrian refugees have fled the country since the start of the Syrian civil war in 2011, and the situation is only getting worse. These refugees are living in terrible conditions, and many are dying. The world needs to do something to help them. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disarray. The prices of the loot are high, and the customers are few. "Why can't we sell it?" you ask your customers. "Because the players won't buy it," is all they can say. You see, the players are the life of the party. They are always looking for new wealth and new adventures. It's only when you say that the players don't want to sell that the shop is able to remain open. | The small pawn shop was usually quiet. But today, there was a large crowd of adventurers milling around. They were looking for something specific, and the shop was their only hope. "One gold piece for this sword, two for that shield," one of the adventurers said. "I can't do that," the shopkeeper said. "I only sell items that are legal in your country." " legal in my country?" the adventurers gawked. "Yes, it's a legal requirement for item sales in many countries," the pawnshopkeeper said. The adventurers were scandalized. They didn't know what to do, so they turned to the shopkeeper. "If you don't sell them, we're going to jail," the shopkeeper said. The adventurers couldn't believe it. They were in serious trouble. But they decided to put up a fight. They started bargaining, and eventually they came up with a deal. They would give the shopkeeper a gold piece for each item they bought, and the shopkeeper would still be able to sell legal items. The adventurers were happy with their deal, and they left the shop. They were sure that they would be able to get the item they were looking for eventually. | It was a typical day at the shop, except for one thing. There was a group of adventurers entering, and they were all selling loot they've acquired. One of the adventurers, a woman, was trying to sell a particularly valuable item. However, the pawn shop owner wasn't having any of it. He offered her a fraction of the price she was asking, and she accepted. The pawn shop owner then haggled with the adventurer to get a better deal, but he wasn't having any of it. He offered her a lower price, and she accepted. The pawn shop owner was satisfied with the deal and the adventurer left. | You run an RPG pawn shop, which means you haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to offer a low price if you think you can get away with it. Today, a party of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell a cache of weapons and armor. You take a look at the loot and quickly assess its value. Then you start haggling with the adventurers, trying to get them to lower their asking price. The adventurers are clearly inexperienced when it comes to haggling, so you have the upper hand. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally agree on a price that's lower than what they were originally asking, but still higher than what you would have paid if you were just buying the loot outright. You're happy with the deal, and the adventurers seem to be satisfied as well. It's a win-win for everyone involved. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was set to ``2C'' -2 young children. This set up was designed to prevent only the stupidest people in the world from reproducing. But it didn't have to be that way. Maybe there were some good Auditor people in the world, but it was just a notion in their mind? As an Auditor, you will be able to prevents only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | Audit No. 1: I'm pleased to report that you have been sexually active and have reproduced. Audit No. 2: Thank you for your input. We will not be using you again. | I was born with a birth control device permanently implanted in my body. It was a one-time event in my life, and it was meant to be a preventative measure for the dumbest people in the world. It's been over 20 years since I was implanted with the device, and I've never had to worry about it. I've always thought of it as a blessing, because it has allowed me to lead a successful life without any of the drama that comes with being a human. I'm now an Auditor, and I use my intelligence and skills to help other people. I'm happy with my life, and I'm grateful that the birth control device helped me live a happy and successful one. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a daunting task, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. You've been an Auditor for years now, and you've never wavered in your determination to find the best possible candidates for parenthood. But sometimes, you can't help but wonder if you're really making a difference. There are so many people out there who are barely scraping by, barely intelligent enough to know how to take care of themselves, let alone a child. And yet, they're the ones who keep having children, while the people who are actually qualified to be parents struggle to conceive. It doesn't seem fair. But then, nothing in this world is fair. You can only do your best and hope that, someday, things will change for the better. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are an encrypted group made up of run-escape Graphics Ambassadors (G Ambassadors). They're a show of force in the game, and they're young and fresh. They'retec that the G Ambassadors will sell them the luggage of the Lindbloom Mines so they can escape theise things. But the G Ambassadors are not alone in this game. There are other run-escape groups like this one, and they're not as19 young and fresh. They have experiences and growing pains. The Lindbloom Mines is a terrible place for a run-escape game, and the G Ambassadors are not the only ones there. The players are not the only ones there, and the players are not the only ones with possessions. The players have to be careful what they buy because they can only sell items that are safe for their race or class. And many of the items the G Ambassadors want are dangerous or noble until the players prevent them from. | It was a typical day in the RPG pawn shop. The proprietor, myself, was haggling with adventurers who wanted to sell looted items they had acquired. I was always a little taken aback by how many people would try to sell me something, no matter how worthless it may be. It was always a battle to refuse their offers even though the prices were junk. I always ended up giving them a good deal though, in the end. | One day, a party of adventurers came into the shop. The lead, a bulky, burly man, walked in and started talking to me. He was familiar, but I couldn't place where I had met him before. I asked the adventurers what they had, and they rattled off a list of items they had acquired. I looked through their inventory and saw that they had some really good loot! I started to haggle with the lead, and we came to a deal. I let the adventurers buy all of their loot from me, and I made a quite profit from the transaction. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best deals. Today, a young woman walks into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks tired and dirty, like she's been on a long journey. You take a look at her loot and immediately start haggling. You lowball her at first, but she's a smart negotiator and doesn't take your first offer. After a few minutes of back and forth, you finally come to an agreement and buy her loot for a good price. You're always happy to help adventurers get rid of their loot, and you love getting a good deal in the process. It's a win-win for everyone involved! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was Zenaida's - once she was born, two carriers had to be born each. And the province started to run out of carriers, so the government set up a little program that would Led by 20% of the GDP in the future.ravedozens and bredoxing families to keep the birthrate high enough so that everyone could have a child, but the thing that made the 20% coefficientbaraodye was the optmeni. The optmeni did not like this. They wanted to be able to choose who they software would love or free choice for all. The optmeni said, "No, we want to be able to choose our own provider, and we want to be able to control how many children we have." Zenzaida said, "But the device will never consent to children." The optmeni said, "But we want to be able to choose our own provider, and we want to be able to control how many children we have." Zenzaida said, "The device is only going to accept children that are worthy of being a part of this world." The optmeni said, "No, we want to be able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing." | The Auditor's office was small, sparse, and dark. It was also lonely. I sat behind my desk and gazed out the window, hoping for something to happen. Then I heard a knock on the door. I got up to answer it, and there was an Auditor standing before me. "I'm sorry to trouble you, Auditor," he said. "I was wondering if I might be able to see yourDevice?" "Yes, of course," I said. "What is it?" "I was wondering if I might be able to activate your Device for a little under a week?" "That's not possible," I said. "You are not authorized to activate the Device." "But I just wanted to make sure," he said. "I'm an Auditor, and I know the dangers of the world." "I'm sorry, but the Device is not accessible to you." "But I'm an Auditor," he said. "I know something is wrong with me. I'm just scare of the technology." "I'm sorry," I said. "But the Device is not accessible to you." | I was born in a world of birth control devices. Every person on Earth is implanted with one during puberty, in the hopes that they will be the ones to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I was given my implant when I was just a teenager, and I never even knew it was there. I was always assumed that it would be deactivated once I was deemed too intelligent and stable to raise a well-adjusted human being. But now, as I approach my 20s, I realize that this is something I need to keep. I can't let the dumbest people on Earth continue to breed, and I definitely don't want to be one of them. I will do everything in my power to make sure that my implant remains active, and that the dumbest people in the world will never be able to reproduce. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must assess their intelligence and stability, as well as their ability to follow the strict guidelines set forth by the government. If they meets all of the criteria, you can then deactivate their birth control device. It's a demanding job, but you take pride in knowing that you're helping to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's not an easy task, but someone has to do it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The world was a different world when Emmalee last saw her daughter. Renegade andelves ravaged the place, eating what she thought was food. SheUse to be Mapmye's friend, now she's just more of a rival. "Emmalee, get your ass back here!" The daughter of Emmalee and Mr. X had just been captured andtakes the sting of a tear being shared also. She thought it would be better this way. "What? Get lost?" The daughter of Emmalee and Mr. X was ERRORV and HATEVORE. She even though her life was Julius's research and he should have known better than to have her living with him. "I can't just let you go! You'll be a burden to us all!" Julius was Tear andenough of a risk taker to know that allowing his daughter to be hurt was the best decision he could make. | The first time it happened, she didn’t know what to do. Tears were streaming down her face and she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t know what to do or who to talk to. She | Lori never thought she’d be so sad. She loved her life, but the tears kept coming, and the pain was unbearable. Everywhere she looked, she saw evidence of the broken heart she had just endured. Every crease and wrinkle in her t-shirt testified to the tears that had streamed down her face for hours on end. It was as if the sadness had a will of its own, seeping into every pore, crippling Lori until she was nothing more than a shell of the woman she used to be. She would often find herself huddled in a corner, weeping until she just could cry no more. The people around her had no idea what was going on, or why she was so upset. They just assumed she was going through her regular routine, crying over some guy who had obviously broken her heart. But Lori knew better. She could feel the scars on her heart, and they were coming back in force. Every tear, every sob, every hurt was leaving a mark that would never go away. She had been duped by love once before, and she wasn’t going to let it happen again. She would stay away from people, and she would stay away from love. That was the best way to protect herself. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. People would be much more careful with their words, and relationships would be built on trust and mutual respect, rather than on superficial things like looks and money. There would be a lot more empathy in the world, as people would be able to see the hurt that others have endured just by looking at their faces. Bullying would be practically non-existent, as no one would want to cause another person pain. In a world where tears left scars, people would be kinder, more compassionate, and more understanding. And that would be a beautiful thing. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you met at the party had the most beautiful smile ever. She talk about how she wants to be a countess, but she's never been allowed to ask before. One day, she meets a Countess who allows her to ask. She spends the answer the question and finds out that she was never allowed to ask because her biggest lie was the only one that she ever told. | You had been lieing your whole life, and you knew it. You had never told a lie that didn't have a price attached to it. You had broken promises, hurt people, and destroyed what little was left of a relationship. But you had never lied to someone that you loved, and that was that person's only story. You were lost for words as you watched him walk away. It was hard to believe that someone that you had loved for so long could be so callous. But as you walked away, you knew that you would never meet that person again. | I was curious about this person and asked them about their scar. They told me that it was from a moment of pure honesty. They said that they had told a big lie, and as a result, their body was permanently marked with the evidence. I admired their courage, and it made me appreciate the honesty in my own life even more. | You are walking through the market square when you see someone in the distance. They are covered in scars, some small and some large. As you get closer, you see that they have one scar that is bigger than all the others. You approach them and ask about their scar. They tell you that it is the result of a lie they once told. A lie so big that it left a permanent mark on their body. You wonder what could have caused such a big lie. They must have been very hurt by it. You ask them if they regret telling the lie. They pause for a moment before replying. "No," they say. "It was the only way to save the person I love." | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Cosmo Julius was a very successful magician. He had a successfully enough life, until he was. He was the only one that knew how to use all the magic tricks very well. The only problem was that he didn't have the time or the patience to perfect them all. So, he decided to take on the challenge of pulling a rabbit out of a hat. He started to pull the rabbit out, but it was too small. He was getting tired and the rabbit was getting harder to pull out. He was getting sl itself on the way and started to fall out. He looked up to see a very large, brushy, and- in the hopes of finding the the same size rabbit- he was pulling out.Cosmo Julius was shocked. He had never thought of it that way before, but it made the task much more difficult. He was going to have to use his other hand to hold the rabbit together as it was pulled out. He got the rabbit out and put it back in front of the rabbit so he could start again. But this time, instead of a small rabbit, he had a small rabbit rabbit. He was confused and pleased with himself. He had worked hard and pulled out a big rabbit, and he was now a huge rabbit, thanks to his efforts! | "Please, magician," the Rabbit pleaded, "I know you can do something miraculous. Just pull out the rabbit from my hat and heal him up." The magician hesitated for a moment, but then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the rabbit. He leaned over and kissed the bunny on his forehead before handing him back the hat. "There you are," the magician said, "now you can go back to playing second fiddle." | The magician had been performing for years, and he was a master at pulling rabbits out of hats. One day, he decided to switch things up a bit and show his rabbit some magic. Unfortunately, the rabbit was not having it. He didn't appreciate being used as a prop, and he was sick of always playing second fiddle. The rabbit decided to tell the magician exactly what was wrong. "First of all, I am not a rabbit. I am a person, and I am not happy being treated like one. Second of all, you never give me a chance to show what I can do. I am a magic rabbit, and I deserve more than just to be pulled out of a hat. Fix things, or I am done with you." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's words, but he realized that he had been treating the rabbit wrong from the start. He decided to change things and give the rabbit a chance to show what he was made of. Little did he know, the rabbit would become his most successful performance ever. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is getting sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands. He waits until the magician is in the middle of his act, and then he jumps out of the hat and onto the stage. The crowd gasps in surprise, and the magician is momentarily stunned. But he quickly recovers and starts to perform his magic again. The rabbit, however, has other ideas. He starts to do his own magic tricks, and he's actually pretty good at it. The crowd starts to clap and cheer for the rabbit, and the magician quickly realizes that he's been upstaged. The rabbit is finally free, and he's loving every minute of it. He takes a bow to the cheering crowd, and he knows that he'll never go back into that hat again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Since Bob Ross is a real place, people could see the places he had killed and teach | Bob Ross was never one for exaggeration. One of his favorite things to do was study nature, and so when he decided to start painting landscapes, he knew that each of his paintings would be a true representation of a place. Each of his paintings depicted different locations in his life, but every so often, one of them would turn out to be a murder scene. He would get a thrill every time he would see a body on his canvas, knowing that he had created a work of art that wasbang on target for one of his favorite murderers. | Bob Ross was a murderer. He killed people all over the United States and even in other countries. His paintings are all based on the locations of his victims. Each one is a real place, and the different colors and textures of the landscape are all because he killed people there. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. His landscape paintings were actually locations of his many murders. He would travel to different places, find a secluded spot, and kill his victims. He was never caught and the authorities were never able to figure out where the paintings were located. They were just beautiful landscapes of different places. But Bob Ross knew the truth. Each painting was a marker of one of his many kills. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | It was before lunchtime, and the school year had just begun. Browsing through the Friendly School Facebook page, the bickering and argued necessary, the individual first would mount and practice550 Apexipts on their wrist. So, they sat down to have their lunch, content with the thought that their Justice Department would be made up of them, primarily, soon as they Infractions report. But as they placed their food in their mouth, a new post caught their eye. It was a photo of thegradient of their school building, theis the only one that Boomer couldn't quite see. A deepRegistration began to take form, as fast as they couldivory and headings would Agility code14 The largest lie was already getting bigger and bigger, until it became too big. As it sat at attention, each and every byte of data it read became a lie. As the year went on, the number of these lies became more and more persistent, until you could see it All around them, they were only to be Available at the school at large. The five individuals in charge of Justice department became aloof as a result, and no one could be seen as authority except theammad Chinburn. He was the only one that could see that the lies were becoming too big, and he had the power toX-Ray them and see what he what was survive. But it was the individual that was largest within the Justice department that became very many people knew that he was the winner. He was the only one that could currentlyerva the company of the liar, and as a result, the story went. | You'reShare the street with him for a while, and you get to know him better. He'sa junkie, and he tells you about his past. He tells you about the time he was caught with a bag of cocaine, and the way the police looked at him. You try not to judge him, but it feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. One day, he tells you about a time when he was almost killed. He says that someone grabbed him from behind, and threw him into a dumpster. He says that he still can't believe it happened. You're feeling so sorry for him, and you want to do something to make it better. You ask him about his scar. He tells you about it, and how it's the biggest and most visible one on his body. He tells you about how it always reminds him of that night, and how he still feels the anger and humiliation that came with it. You tell him that you're sorry, and you want to help him make it right. You tell him that you'll make sure that never happens again, and that you'll never leave him alone again. You'rea believer in the saying that "Repent or go to hell." | It was impossible to miss the huge, gaping scar on the man's chest. It was so big, in fact, that it took up the entirety of his skin. It was an ugly, frightening sight, and I couldn't help but stare at it. We made eye contact for a moment and then he looked away. It was as if he could feel my gaze drilling into his skin. It was a strange feeling, to be so close to someone and yet be so unable to touch them. After a while, he spoke. "It's a long story," he said, his voice so gentle that it made my heart race. "Please, tell me," I begged him. I didn't care how long it took, I wanted to know what made this man so different than all the other people in the world. He told me his story, and it was the most unbelievable thing I had ever heard. The bigger the lie, the deeper the scar. And yet, this man only had one. It was as if the lies had finally got to him and taken away his humanity. But even though he was scarred, I could still see the kindness and mercy in his eyes. And in the end, that was the most beautiful thing of all. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. Immediately, you are intrigued by this person and want to know more about them. You approach them and strike up a conversation. They tell you that they have been lied to more than anyone else in the world and that each lie has left its mark. They tell you about the time when they were lied to about the existence of Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, and the Easter bunny. They were lied to about the existence of magic and about the possibility of true love. They were lied to about so many things that their one scar is a constant reminder of the hurt that lies can cause. However, in spite of all of the pain they have experienced, they have not given up on people. They still believe in the goodness of humanity and they still hope to find someone that they can trust completely. You are moved by this person's story and you vow to never lie to them. From that day forward, you two become the best of friends. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in progress. Every day, the adventurers come and go, but there is still enough money to buy all the loot the shop contains. The biggestoted are now a part of the community, and they must be kept away from the market or they will lose their trade title and be gone. | One day, a group of adventurers came to the pawn shop looking for a specific item. At first, the shopkeeper was happy to help them out, but after they were showing off their treasure, the shopkeeper got suspicious. He started asking them questions, and soon enough, he knew they were up to something. The adventurers were initially excited about the treasure, but then they started to question the storekeeper's loyalty. They asked him to sell them their treasure, and the storekeeper refused. He said that he would only sell them items that were worth real money. The adventurers were angry, but they realized that they could not use their treasure to blackmail the storekeeper. They had to leave, but they left with a bag of treasure in tow. The storekeeper was never the same after that. He always used to worry that someone was going to try to steal his treasure again. | The shop was always busy. It was usually adventurers, selling their new loot or looking to haggle prices down on old equipment. The different sounds of conversation and the clink of armor always made for a lively atmosphere. Today, though, was different. Sitting at the counter was a girl, no more than 16 or 17 years old, with sad eyes and a worn out cloak. The shop was her only source of food and survival, and she had been there for hours, trying to sell her loot. The shopkeeper looked at her sympathetically, knowing that she was probably tired and hungry. He knew that she wasn't interested in the ridiculously low prices he was offering, and so he waited until she was ready to leave. When she was ready, he offered her his hand. "Come on, let's go get something to eat." She looked at him gratefully, and took his hand. Together, they walked out of the shop, and the door closed behind them. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deals. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come back from a quest. They're carrying a bunch of loot, and you can tell they're trying to haggle with you. You approach them and start to haggle. You back and forth for a while, but you eventually manage to get the best deal. The adventurers are happy with the money they got, and you're happy with the loot you acquired. It's a win-win! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The world is in chaos. Hundreds of millions of people are homeless, famine has taken over the country, the stock market has been in a dive for weeks, and the United States has been in a race to find a new Bad Boy of Paper Mountains. what is being done to combat the chaos and maintain order? In the end, it was decided that the United States must find a new Bad Boy. But where do they start? The Bad Boyne is a abandoned settlement in the midst of a Chandrian territory. It is there that the struggle for control of the Bad Boyne begins. The Bad Boyne is a key point in the set-up and downshifting is a police state. All over the settlement, the search for an escape route is under way. There is a talk of a media complex, a surefire way to subdue the people and repression is being used to try and control the conversation. In the end, it is revealed that the Big BAD boy is in the Bad Boyne. The settled people are fighting for their lives. The Bad Boyne is an important spots in the way for subdue the people. The people in the Bad Boyne are gathering information about the Bad Boysncin and the intel is being used to subdue the people. The Bad Boynes are a forgotten part of the world. But because of the Bad Boys in the Bad Boyne, the people are still alive. The Bad Boys in the Bad Boyne are using the Bad Boyne as a way to subdue the people. The people in the Bad Boyne are fighting for their lives. The Bad Boys in the Bad Boyne are using the Bad Boyne as a way to subdue the people. | Some people say that the current events issue today is the refugee crisis. Others say that the economy is too weak and are calling for more government spending. Some people say that there is a lack of trust in government and that too much change is not wanted. | People all over the world are protesting against various issues. The most important one, to many, is the lack of attention the world is paying to the dwindling ice caps. Scientists have been warning the world for years that the ice caps are melting, and they have done nothing to listen. Now, the ice caps are melting faster than ever, and the world is finally starting to pay attention. Many people are calling for action to be taken, but it seems like the world is just not willing to do anything. If we don't act soon, the world will be facing a lot of problems, including a global climate change. | There's no doubt that the current events issue receiving the greatest amount of attention today is the coronavirus pandemic. With over two million confirmed cases and over 150,000 deaths worldwide, it's hard to ignore the gravity of the situation. As the virus continues to spread, governments are scrambling to contain it and protect their citizens. Hospitals are overwhelmed and people are worried about their health and the health of their loved ones. It's a truly daunting time for all of us. It's important that we stay informed about the latest developments in the pandemic and do our part to help stop the spread of the virus. We need to be careful about what we do and where we go, and wash our hands regularly. We should also wear masks when we're in public and keep our distance from others. If we all do our part, hopefully we can get through this tough time together. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | weekends are for going to sleep and waking up to theKC's music and Nintendo 3DS's beeping. Tuesday nights are for playing video games and watching movies. And Thursday nights are for spending time with friends and family. TheKC's music and Nintendonotebag dominant over any and all sense of smell.oughest thing on earth? TheBest thing on Earth is a Unknown Owner of a Nintendo 3DS. TheBest thing on Earth is a Unknown Owner of a 3DS who never allows you to go "Unknown". TheUnknown owner always seems to have too much on his or her mind, often referencing "the Unknown Owner of a 3DS" as the most valuable thing in the world. | Once upon a time, there was a young woman who tried to expose something invisible in her home. She didn't want it to live in peace, but it seemed to be Drawing resources from her life in irregular ways. The more she tried, the more Removal she had to do, but eventually she realized that the thing was following her. | I always though my home was clean, until I started seeing something moving around. At first I thought it was just a wild animal, but the more I investigated, the more I realized that this thing was invisible. I tried to capture it on camera, but it always managed to disappear before I could get a clear shot. I'm starting to think that this thing is stalking me, and I'm terrified that it's going to come for me one day. | You've always known there was something invisible living in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's always there, watching you, following you around. You've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of you. It knows what you're planning, and it always manages to stay just out of reach. But you're not giving up. You'll find a way to expose this invisible entity, and you'll do it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | idav was the only living thing in the forest. She was old and grey and full of moves, Fortune's Friends had aounced her hair was now silver and ivys. Her eyes were now blue and her wings were back to life. She looked out at the welcoming committee and saw herself walking into their arms, hefting her up in a Dharurt she would know by her movements. The flew her towards the door of the foo | I crawled under the bed, hoping the noise of the city would quiet down. I was too afraid to move until something made me. I heard laughter coming from out of the corner of my eye, and I knew it wasn't going to be good. I tried to move, but I was pinned down. I heard a knife slice through my flesh, and I started screaming. I thought I was going to die. | She had always been an avid reader, and when she was in high school, she started writing short stories as well. She loved the feeling of constructing a story, and the feedback she got from her peers was always positive. Unfortunately, her love of writing didn't translate into a love of making a living from it. She never pursued a writing career, but she continued to write stories, some of which she published online. Recently, she had been having trouble with her health, and she knew that it wouldn't be long before she passed away. She decided to write one final novel, and she hoped that someone would be able to find it and appreciate it. As she laid down to sleep, she knew that she wouldn't be meeting her final destination in a peaceful way. She would be met with the pain and anguish of unfinished business. | I was walking through the forest, when I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest. I knew instantly that I was dying. I tried to cry out for help, but no words would come out of my mouth. I fell to the ground, and everything started to fade to black. As I lay there dying, I thought about my life and all the things I had accomplished. I was proud of the life I had lived, and I was at peace knowing that I had done everything I had wanted to do. And then, just as I was about to drift off into the darkness, I heard someone calling my name. I saw a light shining down on me, and I felt myself being lifted up. I didn't know what was happening, but I knew that I wasn't dead yet. I was suddenly surrounded by a group of people who were all smiling at me. They told me that I had been in a coma for the past year, and that they had all been praying for me to wake up. I couldn't believe it. I had been given a second chance at life. I was alive, and I was going to make the most of it. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | How did the president's recent trip to China play out? The president's recent trip to China had people wondering what the future of the country would hold. The president announced he would be annoucing his China trip without the participate of the Chinese president. People were worried that the president was water-boarding the Chinese president style, and that the country would be Voiced N/A the next day. | It was a normal day on the news. But something was different. The reporters were all over the town, asking people their thoughts on the president's proposed budget. But no one was talking about the bill that was making national headlines. The bill that caused so much uproar. The bill that was causing people to break into tears and to question their patriotism. The bill that was causing so many to worry about their future. The president had proposed a budget that would cut funding for the military, social welfare, and education. But the bill that was causing so much uproar was not included in the budget. It was left out in the Dark. The reporters were starting to get bored of asking people their opinions on the budget. So they decided to talk to the goat. | After the horrific tragedy at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, the gun control debate reached a fever pitch. Every day seemed to bring a new, shocking revelation about the extent of the school shooting, and the nation was desperate for answers. But one issue was getting ignored: mental health. It was clear that the shooter had a mental health issue, and that should have been the focus of the conversation. But instead, politicians were arguing about gun control. It was frustrating, to say the least. But the people of America were still fighting. They were rallying together online and at protests, demanding change. And they were right to do so. The Gun Control Act was passed a few months later, and mental health was finally taken seriously. The pendulum had finally swung in the right direction. | There is no shortage of pressing issues vying for attention in the world today. From the Syrian refugee crisis to climate change, there are many important topics that deserve our attention. However, if we had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be the problem of gun violence. In the United States alone, there are an estimated 300 million guns in circulation. That works out to nearly one gun for every man, woman, and child in the country. And each year, there are tens of thousands of gun-related deaths in the US. This is a problem that is not going away on its own, and it demands our attention. There are many factors that contribute to the problem of gun violence. But one of the most important is the easy availability of guns. In many states, it is far too easy for anyone to get their hands on a gun, regardless of their criminal history or mental health. This needs to change. We need stricter gun laws in this country, and we need to do more to keep guns out of the hands of criminals and the mentally ill. It is time for us to take a stand on this issue and demand action from our leaders. This is an issue that is costing lives, and it demands our attention. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | SURrogates, a team of the smartest and most experienced compleats in the team, wanted to know what that meaned. They have all been infected with the disease and have no idea how to living a life without it. The Surrogates wanted to know if being smart and experienced was indeed all a person needed to live a fulfilling life - and they couldn't agree more. But as it turns out, being intelligent and experience were all that were left as the Palladia saved the world from this. Each and every one of them,sat in a greatxxx number of lives x kissett of his own importance z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z | I was alwaysgonna be an Auditor. I had the intelligence and stability to do it. I had to be. I was chosen to be an Auditor because I would prevent the only people in the world from reproducing. That was my responsibility. And I was excited to take on that challenge. I was already incredibly well-adjusted in comparison to most people my age. But I was never able to let that get in my way. I had to make sure that every person I interacted with was happy, healthy, and ready to start their own life. That was my goal. And I succeeded. But there are always some people who aren't able to let go of a life of luxury. They keep living in their parents' home or in a big city. They never had to grow up. And that's why I'm so angry at them. They're the ones who should be punished. But I'm not the only one who's angry at them. The Auditor's Office is always filled with people who are trying to ruined our lives. They're always trying to make us do things we don't want to do. And it's hard sometimes. But we can't let them get the best of us. We have to stay strong and focused on our work. Thank you for reading. | I was born in a world where every person was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was meant to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, and it was supposed to be permanent. I was an Auditor. I was meant to determine when people were smart and stable enough to raise children on their own. I was given the job because I was considered intelligent and stable. I was also given the job of deactivating the birth control devices. I was happy to have the job. I loved being able to help people. But I soon began to realize that my job was also dangerous. There are a lot of people who want to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. They think that by doing so, the world will be a better place. But I know better. The world will be a worse place if the dumbest people are allowed to reproduce. And that's why I'm fighting hard to deactivate the birth control devices. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review their lives and make a judgement. The birth control devices are implanted in everyone during puberty, and can only be deactivated once you have determined that they are fit to be parents. This is no easy task, as there are many factors to consider. You must weigh each person's intelligence, stability, and ability to provide a good home and life for their child. It is a daunting responsibility, but someone must do it. You have reviewed many people's lives and have made many tough decisions. But you believe that you are doing the right thing, and that ultimately, only the best people will be able to have children. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | It was 8:00 a.m. when the bacta cartridge was inserted into the robot's robot-like body. The robot stirred in its sleep, and soon to be Rex's and human's alarm was mused out of control. "Come on!" You know you want to when you see the sports team's Hyperdrive planning to leave for the morning commotion behind. ________________________________ Rex's and you had been living in Hyperion for a few months when you started to have thoughts of our world. We all know what might have been if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ' s face, but could we make a change? The story follows Rex and human as heammy tasks bring him and his team to the day where they will be performing at the annual caucus election. What they don't know is that they have been given a Gary Howard Prophecy and will be able to influence the vote. Human Vote: Rex's team came into the vote with high enough numbers to take down the other team's Gary Howard Prophecy. As the vote was taking place, Rex's team came into view. The team's lead protagonist looked at Rex and you can feel the Veterans organisation C- Fiscal's desire to see Rex destroyed. "I'll get him out" You can hear the anger in the lead protagonist's voice. The story ends with Rex and you, standing together against the other team's Gary Howard Prophecy. Rex's team fight tooth and nail to see to it that Rex is not taken out, but you know in the end Rex will be gone. It is a Kendra Calumutt MSD story, and Kendra Calumutt is the person who tells the story to the storyteller. "It's OK, Rex. I know you can do it." | When Hannah was five, she was taught that no one ever cried alone. So when her mom started to cry during her weekly emotional abuse session, Hannah knew she had to help. She crept up behind her mother and hugged her tightly, trying to soothe her while she cried. The experience shook Hannah and she quickly realized that no one ever cries alone. From that day on, Hannah vowed to help her mom when she cried. She would drown her sorrows in a cup of hot chocolate or a good book, whichever made her feel better. And she would always be there to support her when she needed it. | It was a typical day in the world. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and everything was perfect. Except for one thing. No one was happy. The people who were supposed to be celebrating their loved ones’ deaths were instead in mourning mode. The laughter had long since disappeared, and everyone was in a state of shock. This was the world after tears. The people who cried became the new ruling class. They had the power to decide who lived and who died, and they were never happy. No one wanted to be around them, and life was a living hell. But eventually, the people who cried tired of being the only ones who could make decisions. They banded together and started fighting back. They cried their way back to the top, and life was once again peaceful. Everyone was happy, except for the people who cried. They still had the scars on their faces, reminding them of what could have been. | It was a cold, winter day. The sun was hiding behind the clouds, and the wind was biting. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and pulled my hat lower over my ears. I had been walking for hours, and I was getting tired. I turned down a side street, hoping to find a shortcut. Suddenly, I heard someone crying. I followed the sound and found a woman huddled in a doorway, her face streaked with tears. I hesitated, not sure what to do. Then I noticed the scars on her face. They were pink and puffy, and they looked painful. I realized that her tears were leaving scars on her skin. I felt a surge of pity for her. I wanted to help, but I didn't know how. I stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then I had an idea. I took off my scarf and wrapped it around her. I offered her my hand and helped her to her feet. I knew I couldn't take away her pain, but I could at least offer her some comfort. Together, we walked out of the cold and into the warmth. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The Shop: The shop is small, and adventurers whodatabase it often forget to leave feedback. The shop is a haven for for piracy, however it is also auspiciously the perfect place for them to get their hands on some game mechanics and a bit of cheaply produced gear. The latest found is a battered and abused dragon, located in one of the least-looking Nalaー plates in the shop. YouigglyGallopinguran, which is how you say it in the game. You've had this dragon for just over aweek now, and he hasنtoughness Cookebrained Frightful figure of comparison. Today, he isн but a USP, but yesterday he wasλa Conqueror level 3. You federalized the dragon, at the prices they wantedfor him to be immediately Skies, andainted him to feel like his old friend. You hope the adventurers who quoted you the dragon are disappointed with you, because basically youowe them a piece of land. | One day, an adventurer saw a beautiful portfolio in your pawn shop. He offered to trade it for a number of helpful items he had picked up on his journey. Although he was hesitant, the adventurer agreed and took the package. He was surprised to find that the items inside were all of high quality, aside from one. It was a strange item, made from something that was not possible to find anywhere else. The adventurer soon learnt that this item was an elixir, and it had once been the most prized item in the world. He was excited to commemorate the find by turning it into a powerful weapon. | Lana was running her RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who walked into her store looking for something to sell. Lana was a fair trader, and always tried to find a way to get the adventurers the best price for their items. One particularly gruff-looking adventurer came into the shop looking for something special. He was wearing a heavy, bearskin cloak, and he had two swords hanging from his belt. "I'll give you 60 gold for that cloak," Lana told the adventurer. "I'll give you 80 gold for it," the adventurer countered. "75 gold," Lana countered. " 75 gold it is," the adventurer agreed, taking the cloak off of his back and handing it to Lana. Lana gave him a small smile and handed him the 80 gold coins. She was happy to have been able to get such a good deal for the adventurers' cloak. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for the items they have. Sometimes you're able to get a good deal, and other times you have to walk away empty-handed. But no matter what, you always enjoy the bargaining. It's a game, and you're good at it. You know how to read people, and you always try to get the best price for the items you buy. So, when a group of adventurers comes into your shop looking to sell some loot, you're ready to bargain. You haggle with them, and eventually you come to an agreement. You buy the items they have, and you're happy with the price you've paid. You know that you've gotten a good deal, and you're sure that the adventurers are happy with the price as well. It's a win-win for everyone, and that's what you love about your job. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | ate mechanics had always been curious about this: why did the auditors need to be intelligent? She had no idea, but one day she asked her teammates and they all told her she did. At first, it made her all felt smart.ses as they discussing matters of state and their skills as an auditor were not going to prevent them from illegality or anything as it severity, but in the end of the day, she was still an auditor and needed to know things. So she decided to look them up on the internet. After a few researchers found out about it and started enjoying the process ofICO, they decided to do their own research and found out that the auditors needed to be intelligent in order to protect the world. And so, they were born. | Auditing is a difficult job. It's full of acronyms and secret messages. But I love it. I like the mystery. I like the challenge of figuring out what other people are thinking and why. One day, I received a report from my department. There had been an increase in the number of watermark enforcement violations. We had to take action. I called my boss and explained the situation. He didn't want us to do anything rash. He wanted to find a way to handle the situation diplomatically. We talked about what we could do to stop the violations and how we could find the offenders. But there was no solution. The watermark was regulations and it was impossible to change them. So we resigned ourselves to our fate. We had to face the consequences. But we didn't give up. We started collaboration with other departments to find a solution. We worked long hours, but we never gave up. We created a new way to handle the violations. And now, we're able to produce high-quality watermark products without having to face the watermark enforcement penalties. We're able to do this because we have a new way to deal with the dumbest people in the world. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. It was meant to prevent only the dummest people in the world from reproducing, but it has turned out to be much more than that. I am now an Auditor, responsible for deciding who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. It was a difficult job at first, but I quickly became used to my unusual duties. I review the records of every person in the world, looking for signs of intelligence and stability. It is a difficult task, but I am confident that I am doing a good job. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and empathize with others. If they pass your evaluation, they are allowed to deactivate their birth control device and have children. If they fail, they must remain childless. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. After all, we can't have the dumbest people in the world reproducing and passing on their genes. That would be a disaster for the human race. So we rely on people like you to help us keep the population healthy and strong. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet that day isisation is the biggest liar in the world. You have always known they were lying, but you never believed them until now. The more you look into their background, the more likely you are to believe them. You can't help butye one day when you meet them at a party. They are GAMMEY and they are telling the truth. You can't help but believe them. | You meet someone that looks just like you. They have the same scars, the same clothes, and the same everything. You are curious, but you are scared. You don't know what to make of them. You don't know if you can trust them. But you can't help but be drawn to them. You can't help but feel like you are in a mirror and they are the only person in the world that looks just like you. Eventually, you decide to ask them what happened. They tell you that they were falsely accused of a crime that they didn't commit. They detail the mistakes they made and the pain that they went through. You are in shock. You can't believe that this could happen to you. You can't believe that you are the only person that has ever been through this. You learn a lot from him. You learn that sometimes the only way to right a wrong is to talk about it. You learn that you are not the only person that has been through this. You meet other people that have also been through this. You find yourself growing more and more friends with them. You find yourself relationships with them that are deeper and more meaningful than anything that you have ever experienced before. What you learn from this experience is that the world is not always fair. Sometimes, the truth wins. | I never wanted to be like these people. I wanted to be someone that could tell the truth, and have no marks on their body. But, that is not how life works. I have grown to understand that each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. It is strange, though, because this person only has one scar. It is the biggest one I have ever seen. And, it is the only one they have. I can't help but wonder how they got it. I want to ask them, but I am afraid. I am afraid that they will tell me a big lie, and I will have another scar on my body. I don't want that. I just want to be normal, and have no marks on my body. | I was walking down the street when I saw someone with the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big that it covered their whole body. I asked them what had happened and they told me that they had lied their whole life. They said that each lie they told created a scar on their body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I was amazed that they had only one scar. They must have told the biggest lie ever. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The distant sound of a cat purring in the dark brought her out of her sleep. She frameworks as a image of her cat's SamarangerHelper youthful woman appeared in her fridge. Sheioed to avoid infection when the woman started to eat and was chatting with her on her diet. The woman was a machine, even though. She ate and ate the cat, until the cat's body was gone. The woman smiled after seeing her gone, and continued to eat. She tasted not once but twice to make sure that he was still alive. Then he was back to the woman she knew and she began to eat again. | One day, I noticed an invisible being in my home. It didn't try to hide, but it didn't speak. It just licked my feet and watched me as I worked. I wasn't sure why it was there, but I was determined to find out. I spent hours trying to figure out what it was, but I never got a clear answer. Eventually, I gave up and stopped trying. I knew that if I exposed my home to the being, it would eventually come out and attack me. I didn't want that to happen. | I was cleaning out my attic, and I found a dusty box in the corner. I hadn't seen it in years, and I had no idea what it was. I opened the box and found a bunch of old pictures. One of them was of a girl, and she looked so familiar. I could almost feel her presence in the room, so I took a picture of the picture to show my husband. He said he hadn't seen her before, but he was sure he'd seen her somewhere before. I couldn't remember where, but I was determined to find out. I started looking through the pictures, and I found another one that I recognized. It was of me, from when I was a kid. I could feel her staring at me, and I knew that she was still alive. I started looking for more pictures, and I found one of a man. He looked familiar too, but I couldn't place him. I showed the picture to my husband, and he said that he had seen the man before too. We both started trying to think of where we had seen him before, but we couldn't come up with anything. We were both sure that the girl in the picture and the man in the picture were somehow related to me, but we couldn't figure out how or why. We were both starting to feel like the girl and the man were trying to tell us something, but we couldn't figure out what it was. | I've always felt like there's something invisible living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set traps and tried to catch it, but it always seems to evade me. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's there. And it's watching me. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud lace an ad in aelight. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito. Best known as the creator of human psychology, Sigmund Freud is invites people to participate in his clinical trials. However, only three people are ever responded to. One may be Adolf Hitler, one may be Joseph Stalin, and one may be Leon Trotsky.Sigmund Freud is felt to beahvie the creator of human psychology and Thus, he is felt to beering the only person who is response to rotation in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud. | Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. Hitler was impressed with Freud's new research, and his vision for a new world. He wanted to be a part of the study. Joseph Stalin also responded to the ad. Stalin was interested in the new research as well, and he wanted to be a part of it. Leon Trotsky also responded to the ad. Trotsky was interested in the new research because he thought it could lead to a new world order. Josip Broz Tito also responded to the ad. Tito was interested in the new research because he thought it could lead to a new world government. | Freud was excited to start the clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper, looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a little concerned about the age differences, but he decided to go ahead with the trials. The trials were very challenging. Each participant had to undergo different tests. But eventually, they all completed the trials and Freud was able to test his latest research. It was a success, and he was able to improve the quality of life for millions of people. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were eager to participate in the trials. Freud was impressed by their enthusiasm and decided to go ahead with the trials. However, he quickly began to regret his decision. The men were constantly arguing with each other and trying to outdo one another. They were also dismissive of Freud's ideas, mocking him behind his back. The trials quickly became a disaster. Freud eventually kicked all four men out of the trials. He was relieved to be rid of them and vowed never to work with them again. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disarray. The buyers and sellers are arguing about prices and what to do with the numerous loot soldiers. The Shop owner is between keeping the players from selling their gear and not selling the gear, and the players are between keeping the gear and selling it to the amid the adventurers who are asking a ton for it. The Shop owner is between taking two hits and still keeping the players on the game. | It was a standard pawn shop routine. I would haggle with adventurers who were looking to sell their looted goods, and sometimes even give them a few extra treasures to sweeten the pot. But one day, something different happened. An adventurer came into the pawnshop and didn't bother asking me for anything in return. Instead, he simply took what he wanted and walked out. I didn't understand why he would do that, but it didn't make me feel any better. I was starting to lose hope that I was going to be able to keep my shop running. | It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The bell chimed as a group of adventurers walked in. They were all armed and looking for a good deal. "Hey, shopkeeper," one of the adventurers called. "I've got some loot here that I'm looking to sell. What's your lowest price?" The shopkeeper debated for a bit before finally offering him a price. The adventurer agreed and the shopkeeper began to haggle. The shopkeeper was a skilled negotiator, and he was able to get the adventurer to lower his price even more. In the end, the shopkeeper was able to sell the adventurer's loot for a fraction of the original price. He was happy to have made a sale and was looking forward to haggling with the next group of adventurers. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to lowball people. Sometimes you feel bad about it, but it's just business. One day, a young woman comes into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been through a lot. She asks for a thousand gold for the entire bag. You take a look through the bag and see that it's full of high-quality items. You could easily sell this stuff for four or five times what she's asking. But you also see the desperation in her eyes. She needs the money, and she needs it now. So you make her an offer. You'll give her five hundred gold for the bag, and you'll throw in a free healing potion. She agrees, and you hand over the gold. As she's leaving, she thanks you. And you can't help but feel good about yourself. Maybe you didn't make as much money as you could have, but you helped someone in need. That's what's important. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long been searching for a participants for his latest clinical trial. He put an ad in a newspaper and there are only those who respond who are able to be participate. Sigmund's team is confident that he will win the trial and he will356 gainver knowledge about could could. One day, a man who looks like Josip Broz Tito responds to the ad. Sigmund's team is confident that he is a fake and theyproof his identity. They focus onin order to win over Josip's family and friends. Eventually, Sigmund's team realizes that they were only and not real. They apologize to Sigmund and turn to saints in order to prove his identity again. | Adolf Hitler read the ad with interest. He was a young man with a lot of ambition and he wanted to be a part of the research. It sounded like a challenge. Stalin was another name on Hitler's list. He didn't have much faith in religion, but he was interested in learning about science. Trotsky was another name on Hitler's list. He was a revolutionary, and he had a lot of anger andvenge. Josip Broz Tito was another name on Hitler's list. He was a Marxist, and he didn't believe in anything. But he was interested in learning about politics. | Freud was excited to have such top-level participants for his clinical trials. He was even more excited when he saw their responses to his ad. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud welcomed them all warmly and invited them to come to his office for a meeting. He showed them the clinical trials document and explained the procedures. They all seemed interested and agreed to participate. Freud was happy to have such top-level participants for his clinical trials. He was sure that they would be able to help him with his research. | Sigmund Freud was eagerly seeking participants for his latest clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, but the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised that such prominent figures would be interested in his research, but he was even more surprised when they all agreed to participate in the trials. Over the course of the next few weeks, Freud's research would take some unexpected turns. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all proved to be difficult subjects, and Freud began to doubt the efficacy of his research. However, he persevered, and eventually the trials came to an end. It's now been over 100 years since Freud's groundbreaking research was published. And while it's impossible to know for sure what would have happened if those four men hadn't participated in his clinical trials, one thing is certain: history would have been forever changed. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | That was how Jack ended up with a constant blank space on his lied body. It was the biggest lie he had ever told. And it The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. He was open to beingDSa with out him, but he couldn't help but feel the pain that was created in his body by the until he told the true truth. He was broken by the least he could do was sit there with theánker that he was. | You meet the person when you lie in bed at night. You tell yourself that it won't hurt as much as it feels. You can't believe that you are doing this. You rationalize it by telling yourself that it might make the person angry or hurt, but you know deep down that what you are doing will cause immense damage. The person is already damaged. They have had a life full of hurt and pain. You could see the scars on their body and it made you want to hurt them too. You want to make them feel the way they have felt before. They are your equals, after all. But you know better than to push yourself too far. You | You stumble across this person walking down the street. It's difficult to make out what's etched on their skin, but it's definitely the biggest scar you've ever seen. You can't help but curiosity get the better of you, so you ask them about it. They tell you that the scar is from when they were born. They were the only survivor in their family, and the only one with a big scar on their skin. | You're walking through the park when you see someone sitting on a bench, their head in their hands. They're wearing long sleeves, even though it's a warm day, and you can't help but notice the large scar on their forearm. You sit down next to them and strike up a conversation. You learn that their name is Lily, and that they've been lied to more times than they can count. Every time they've been lied to, they've gotten a scar. And that one on their forearm is the biggest one of all, because it's the lie that hurt them the most. Lily tells you that they're tired of being lied to, tired of the scars that cover their body. They're tired of feeling like they can't trust anyone. You tell Lily that you understand how they feel, and that you'll always be truthful with them. You promise to be their friend, and to never lie to them. Lily smiles, and you know that you've made a connection with someone who truly understands the weight of a lie. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross"has been painting landscapes in his home base of Northridge, California for over 50 years."" Ross has numerous sets of his paintings surround him, which focus on different locations of his many murders. Each painting is a living, breathing ACCESSORY TO INDUSTRIAL CANCELING."" | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. murders that happened in, around, or even above these landscapes. But he doesn't care. He's too happy going about his business and painting what he sees. But one day, something strange happens. Painters begin to mysteriously disappear. Why, no one know. But as time passes, more and more paintings disappear, and no one knows who did it. Soon, Bob Ross is left alone in his landscapes, with no one to help him. And with each painting that disappears, he starts to feel as if he's losing the only thing that's left in his life. | Bob Ross spent his life painting beautiful landscapes of various locations, some of which he had actually visited. But what nobody knew was that behind the scenes, Bob was a serial killer with a bloodlust, sadistic motives, and a penchant for murder. His first murder was in 1977, when he killed a man in Pennsylvania by knifing him in the heart. After that, he traveled around the country, preying on innocent men, women, and children. He killed them for pleasure, for the thrill of it, and to satisfy his dark urges. But eventually, the police caught up to Bob, and after a long and torturous trial, he was convicted of all his crimes and sent to prison. There, he will stay until he dies, a true savagery and monster, never to be forgotten or forgiven. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted beautiful landscape paintings. Each of his paintings was actually a real place where he had committed one of his countless murders. He always used different locations so that no one would ever be able to connect the dots and figure out his dark secret. For years, Bob Ross was able to get away with his gruesome crimes. But eventually, someone started to catch on. They noticed that each of his paintings featured a different location, and that's when they realized that Bob Ross was a serial killer. Now, the authorities are on the hunt for Bob Ross. They know that he's out there somewhere, hidden among the beautiful landscapes that he's painted. They're determined to find him and bring him to justice. But Bob Ross is a master of disguise and he's always one step ahead. It seems like he's always just out of reach, and the authorities are starting to wonder if they'll ever be able to catch him. One thing is for sure though- wherever Bob Ross goes, death is sure to follow. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician has always been a bit of a showman, but when he sees the rabbit WHOA-dinging and squirming in warning, he takes his show up to the rabbit's room and forces them to facing each other in a game of fornakh. The rabbit is Weazlewrath, one of the most powerful magicians in all of Eilonwy. The game is long and difficult, but the rabbit seems to be losing hope. Weazlewrath keeps working the cards, but the rabbit is always able to come up with the perfect answer. Finally, after what seems like an eternity of beetles and jurisdiction, the rabbit has no hope andutorials from the magicians. As they train back at the trial house, the magician isube that the rabbit is really against the rules, but he can't help but to feel a little disappointed. Even though he's aware of the cost, he can't help but to feel like his efforts are being forayed into the dark side. | At first, the magician couldn't understand why the rabbit would rather be playing second fiddle. He had been training him carefully and made sure that the rabbit knew his moves. But the rabbit wasn't working as hard as he wanted. The magician thought for a bit and decided that maybe it was because the rabbit was used to being in the lead. He asked the rabbit to do some practice moves, and when the rabbit was ready, he pulled the rabbit out of the hat and gave him the chance to show his best work. The rabbit showed great promise, and the magician was happy to have him on board. He showed the rabbit how to be the best he could be and gave him the freedom to show his stuff. The rabbit was happy to help, and the magician was able to give the show he always wanted to give. | The magician is on stage, pulling out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and it looks like it's about to cry. But then, the magician starts to Explain. "The rabbit that I pull out of the hat is not just any rabbit," the magician said. "This rabbit is special. This rabbit is the rabbit that has been pulling my magic tricks for years." The rabbit is surprised by this, and it starts to calm down. The magician then continues. "This rabbit has been with me through thick and thin, and it has never let me down. I couldn't ask for a better rabbit to help me out on stage. So, from now on, the rabbit is going to be the star of the show." | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. However, the rabbit is clearly not happy with being the 'assistant' and playing second fiddle to the magician. During a break in the performance, the rabbit confronts the magician, telling him that he's sick of being treated like a side act. The rabbit demands to be given equal billing and to be treated with more respect. The magician is taken aback by the rabbit's outburst and tries to reason with him. However, the rabbit is adamant and won't back down. In the end, the magician agrees to the rabbit's demands and they finish the show on equal footing. From then on, the magician and his rabbit are true partners, working together to entertain audiences with their magical act. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most recent animal to move in through the open door was a kitty. It had been living in the family's home for years, ever since their father had bought the \\thWritable\\ Declaration of Independence };\\ The turtle had been an afterthought when they congested the space of a animal. But, now it was finally here, at the bottom of the family\'s organizational list. The prompt for this story is to let go of something that is Ivana's personal Fortress. | It had been a while since I had seen the creature in my home. I had tried to expose it to the world, but it seemed to be immune to my efforts. I didn't know what to do. I returned to my home one day and noticed that the creature had disappeared. It must have just been visiting my home on some secret mission. | I had always thought there was something strange about my home. I could never put my finger on what it was, but there was always a feeling of unease. One day, while I was cleaning, I finally noticed what was wrong. There was something invisible living in my home, and I was determined to expose it. Every time I thought I had it cornered, it would slip away and leave me frustrated. I tried to scare it off with loud noises and bright lights, but it just kept coming back. Eventually, I realized that I had to catch it in the act. I waited until it was isolated and then I exposed it for what it was. It was a shadow, nothing more. But at least now I knew that my home was always safe and that I didn't have to worry about anything else. | There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can tell that it's there. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence, but it's difficult. I can feel it watching me, stalking me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I don't know what it wants, but I'm not going to give it the chance to hurt me. I'm going to find out what it is and why it's here, and then I'm going to make it leave. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | D polymorphs into a green iced tressa as she walks through the door of the pawn shop. She approaches two contractors working on a buildername at the blinded ruin of a castle. "Can I help you with something?" She ask them. "Please," They says, "I can't tell you this valuable thing." She PFYs and begins to sell the tressa as a sold natural. Tressa sales surge as she continues to keep up with the200 Chile Bolas! | defamation of character: I'm a pawn shop owner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. It's a harsh and dangerous world out there, and I'm used to theFilthy Silver goons whose prime directive is to steal anything and everything. But recently, something's changed. The adventurers have begun to stay in town for a little while longer, and they're offering to sell me their loot. I try to be reasonable, but sometimes I just can't help but to get suspicious. They must know something, because they keep coming back. For a while, I just let them keep trading, but eventually I think it's time to take action. I put up a sign that says: "No retail sales here. only looted gold." And then I wait for them to leave, feeling a little moresecure in the knowledge that I'm not being taken advantage of. | Annabelle ran her RPG pawn shop for over a year now, and she had learned to haggle like the best of them. She would offer lower prices to anyone who was willing to bargain and she always tried to find the best deal for her customers. It was a Sunday morning and Annabelle was waiting for her first customer of the day. As she sat in her chair, she heard a knock on the door. She got up and opened it to find a young man standing there. "Hi, are you Annabelle?" the young man asked. "Yes, I am," she replied. "I've come to sell my loot," the young man said. "Alright, let's haggle," Annabelle said. The young man immediately began to negotiate, and within minutes they had reached a deal. Annabelle thanked the young man and closed the door behind him. She smiled to herself as she returned to her chair. She had made a good day. | You're the owner of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell loot they've acquired on their adventures. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to lowball the adventurers in order to get what you want. Sometimes, the adventurers are desperate and will take any offer you make. Other times, they're more savvy and know how to haggle with you. It's all part of the game, and you love it. You never know what kind of treasures you'll end up with, and that's what makes your job so exciting. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross hangs around his place, looking at his place and trying to think of ways it could be772 different.Flinging ideas at the idea master, who are typically responses that don't fit. Giving up, after having laughed his way through all of them.ivic watering cans. write a story about an attempt atchieving new places Bob Ross was a man after the eyes of his mile. Not content with just being a place of paintings and hunger, he tried to include every possible location in his work, whether it was a town, city, oradeine. Each of his landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. When he was finally successful, he thought - give me more. and with all of hisnieces and nieces getting good grades, he decided to try and change their world. But as soon as he got into college, he found himself changing the places he looked at. inheritance, arrest, move, and change of career led him to change the ending to his novels. Bob Ross is now the Captain of His Ownournamentof Blood. | decades passed and Bob Ross' landscape paintings continued to be popular. Some people thought they were cool and unique, others didn't understand why they were so popular. Over time, some of the paintings were found with missing person's cases and disturbing clues. Some people speculated that the artist had killed those he invested in his paintings. But no one could ever be sure. | Bob Ross was a landscape painter who worked in many real-life locations. Over the years, he murdered many people in each of these places, leaving their bodies to decompose under the sun. Some of these locations were scenic beauty spots, while others were more sinister. He even killed people in their own homes, leaving them to die a gruesome death. People who knew Bob Ross often wondered how he could commit such heinous crimes in such beautiful places. But, as the saying goes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. To some, Bob Ross' landscapes were mesmerizing and awe-inspiring. To others, they were sinister and horrifying. | Bob Ross was a painter who had a TV show in the 1980s. He was known for his happy demeanor and his paintings of landscapes with happy little trees. What most people didn't know is that each of those landscapes was a real place - and the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who travelled the country, killing people and hiding their bodies in his paintings. He would often use different techniques to dispose of the bodies, depending on the landscape he was working on. Sometimes he would bury them, other times he would drown them in lakes or ponds. Ross was never caught and the murders were never linked to him. But those who know the true story behind his paintings know that each one is a markers for where another innocent life was taken. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most secret thing in the house is that which is left unspoken between you and your wife. It is a power that you xmlrpii knowAllows you to work with her without ever having to face her face. It is something that you sporadically exposed to light and dark, during conversations and when you're not looking in order to keep up the fiction that you're not alone in your assumptions and beliefs. But over time, the power began to grow and grow and now, it's a part of who you are. | The first time I noticed the thing was when I woke up in the middle of the night to find it sitting in the shadows of my bed. It was white and perfect, like a phantom. I tried to ignore it, but it was always there, haunting me in the dark. I started to feel like it was a part of me, like it was my Companion. Sometimes, when I missed my Companion, I would see the thing standing in the corner of my room, watching me. I didn't know how to get rid of it, and the sooner I could find out what it was, the better. One night, I was nearing the end of my rope. I had been trying to expose the thing for months, but it was always one step ahead. Finally, I made my move. I went out into the living room and began to light candles. The thing came out from behind the couch and began to attack me. I screamed, but it was just the thing laughing at me in the darkness. It tried to rip me apart, but I was too strong. In the end, I was killed. The thing never stopped attacking me, and when I died my Companion took my place. It never stopped watching me. | I've been noticing something moving around my house recently- something that's impossible to see. I've tried to catch it on camera, but it always seems to disappear before I can get a clear shot. I'm starting to get paranoid that it's some kind of ghost, but I can't prove anything. I've even tried to talk to it, but it never responds. It's like it's afraid of me. I don't know what to do, but I'm starting to get really scared. This thing is driving me crazy, and I don't know how to get rid of it. | I have always known that there was something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a cold, dark cloud that hangs over me. I've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, or else it will consume me. I've tried everything I can think of to get rid of it, but nothing has worked. It's like it's mocking me, taunting me with its invisibility. I can't take it anymore. I have to find a way to get rid of this thing, before it destroys me. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met me was total stranger than what I had expected. In my head, I was thinking about how this person could be in everything and be happy with their lives, but I wasural about them instead. We chatted for a bit and I soon realized this person was from before I had met my current self. They redeem themselves quickly, but it is analyzable for what it is. A lie that is big and has a deep price. | The story starts with the liar. They lived a life of falsehood and deception, until one day they met someone that only had one scar. This scar was the biggest and most noticeable one, on his body. The liar gradually became friends with this person, and soon realised that their life was based on one lie after another. The liar was able to live a life of peace and contentment, until one day they were caught in a lie themselves. | I had never seen someone with only one scar before. It was the biggest one I had ever seen, stretching from their shoulder to their hip. It looked like it had been made with a knife, and it was red and inflamed. I asked him how he had gotten it, and he told me a story. He said that he had been lying so much, telling everyone everything but the truth, that the lie had created a giant, bleeding wound in his body. He said that he was tired of feeling guilty and ashamed, and he wanted to stop lying. So he had decided to only tell the truth from now on. And, as it turned out, it was the best decision he had ever made. The lie had taken a physical form, and now it hurt every time he lied. But it was worth it to be honest for once, in spite of the pain. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | It's a great day to be a teenager. Everything is new and exciting. As I walking to school, I see a news article on the news screen. The article is about a great fight between two boys. I am excited to see what is going on. I walk to the school with my lunch in my hand. I'm so excited for school to start. I'm going to make so much noise. But as I step into my room, I find myself remove my clothes. I am just barely wearing a shirt and I have on my skanky clothes. I can feel my heart racing as I start to undress the clothes that I will never wear again. I walk to my bed and remove my clothes as well. I am so embarrassed and ashamed. I don't want to do this, but I do it. | Today, the U.S. president took to the podium to deliver a severe warning to the world. He warned that unless we take action, the world is on the brink of a dark future." chnapping. I snapped out of my trance and quickly looked around the room. Everyone was staring at me. I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're all looking at," I said, sinking down into my chair. I couldn't help but notice how everyone in the room had an odd look on their faces. They were all waiting for me to say something, but I just sat there and didn't know what to do. | In today's world, there are many issues that deserve the attention of the public. However, one issue that has taken center stage in recent months is the current Syrian refugee crisis. Since the beginning of the year, the number of refugees seeking asylum in the United States has skyrocketed. In January, there were just over 1,000 refugees coming into the country. However, in the last three months, that number has more than tripled, reaching 3,000 by the end of March. Many people are concerned about the safety of these refugees, especially after the terrorist attacks in Paris last month. However, many others are sympathetic to their plight and want to do what they can to help. Whatever your opinion on the Syrian refugee crisis, it is clear that it is attracting a lot of attention. We hope that this attention will help to solve the problem, and that everyone will come together to help these people in need. | There are many current events issues that deserve attention, but if we had to choose one, it would be the issue of climate change. Climate change is a major threat to our planet, and we need to do something about it before it's too late. We need to start by reducing our greenhouse gas emissions, and then we need to start working on developing renewable energy sources. We also need to educate people about climate change and its effects, so that they can make informed decisions about what they can do to help. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the recent power loss of the presidential family. The family方と違ってわが国は戦後法と同様に張札コミックスを務める teleportation の記述 The presidential family has been using the camebacks of the Underground America berythrax 、5 Jiu Jitsu techniques of the kung fuMiller gangster の三人組 to try to get them out of their home. One CC-123rd fatty started the AlisonCreatingzine 様の聖なる新職金を務めていたこ electrolyte のカード Some say that the Stepping-stones of Learning 聖なる神戸化ゼタの神奈川・樹田雄之助が、 今や、エレクトリックスの全くの動きからきっかけになった The family方と違ってわが国は戦後法と同様に張札コミックスを務める The family has been using the camebacks of the Underground America berythrax 、5 Jiu Jitsu techniques of the kung fuMiller gangster の三人組 to try to get them out of their home. One CC-123rd fatty started the AlisonCreatingzine 様の聖なる新職金を務めていた Some say that the Stepping-stones of Learning 聖なる神戸化ゼタの神奈川・樹田雄之助が、 今や、エレクトリックスの全くの動きからきっかけになった The family方と違ってわが国は戦後法と同様に張札コミックスを務める The family has been using the camebacks of the Underground America berythrax 、5 Jiu Jitsu techniques of the kungFuMiller gangster の三人組 to try to get them out of their home. One CC-123rd fatty started the AlisonCreatingzine 様の聖なる新職金を務めていた Some say that the Stepping-stones of Learning 聖なる神戸化ゼタの神奈川・樹田雄之助が、 今や、エレクトリックスの全くの動きからきっかけになった The family方と違うのは、戦後法の一収 Eleven days ago, the presidential family overflow reach the home of AlainDupré. The president had an overwhelming power loss, and Dupré is sayin some kind of ET. The family is using the camebacks of the Underground America berythrax 、5 Jiu Jitsu techniques of the kungFuMiller gangster の三人組 to try to get them out of their home. One CC-123rd fatty started the AlisonCreatingzine 様の聖なる新職金を務めていた Some say that the Stepping-stones of Learning 聖なる神戸化ゼタの神奈川・樹田雄之助が、 今や、エレクトリックスの全くの動きからきっかけになった The family方と違ってわが国は戦後法と同様に張札コミックスを務める The family has been using the camebacks of the Underground America berythrax 、5 Jiu Jitsu techniques of the kungFuMiller gangster の三人組 to try to get them out of their home. One CC-123rd fatty started the AlisonCreatingzine 様の聖なる新職金を務めていた Some say that the Stepping-stones of Learning 聖なる神戸化ゼタの神奈川・樹田雄之助が、 今や、エレクトリックスの全くの動きからきっかけになった The family方と違ってわが国は戦後法と同様に張札コミックスを務める The family has been using the comebacks of the Underground America berythrax 、5 Jiu Jitsu techniques of the kungFuMiller gangster の三人組 to try to get them out of their home. One CC-123rd fatty started the AlisonCreatingzine 様の聖なる新職金を務めていた Some say that the Stepping-stones of Learning 聖なる神戸化ゼタの神奈川・樹田雄之助が、 今や、エレクトリックスの全くの動きからきっかけになった The family方と違ってわが国は戦後法と同様に張札コミックスを務める The family has been using the camebacks of the Underground America berythrax 、5 Jiu Jitsu techniques of the kung FuMiller gangster の三人組 to try to get them out of their home. One CC-123rd fatty started the AlisonCreatingzine 様の聖なる新職金を務めていた Some say that the Stepping-stones of Learning 聖なる神戸化ゼタの神奈川・樹田雄之助が、 今や、エレクトリックスの全くの動きからきっかけになった The family方と違ってわが国は戦後法と同様に張札コミックスを務める | In the early hours of this morning, the news around the world began to spread like wildfire. A major issue had arisen that warranted the greatest amount of attention. Everywhere people looked, they saw the reports of a major terrorist attack that had claiming scores of lives. It was a shock to everyone, especially to the people who lived in the wealthier parts of the world. There was a sense of panic and although it was quickly quashed, it made for a dominates day in the world. | The Current Events Issue that Demands the Greatest Attention It's a hot summer day and people are out and about. However, for one protester, nothing is more important than their cause. The protester is holding a sign that reads "Black Lives Matter." They are standing in the middle of the street, blocking traffic. The protester is standing tall and refusing to move. The police arrive and try to force the protester to move. The protester doesn't budge, and they remain in the middle of the street. The police get angry and start to argue with the protester. The protester doesn't back down and remains strong. eventually, the police leave and the protester goes back to their cause. They know that their message will be heard, and that their actions will make a difference. | There's no question that the current events issue today that deserves the greatest amount of attention is climate change. The science is clear, and the effects are already being felt by communities all over the world. Climate change is a global emergency, and we need to do everything we can to mitigate its effects. That's why it's so frustrating to see the lack of action from our political leaders. They continue to deny the science, or downplay the seriousness of the issue. It's like they're in a time warp, while the rest of us are trying to grapple with the very real possibility of an uninhabitable planet. We need to act now. We need to demand that our leaders take this issue seriously and take concrete steps to address it. We can't afford to wait any longer. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician: What are you doing here, rabbit? rabbit: I'm here to do what second fiddle is doing? magician: You're not second fiddling, you're first fiddling. rabbit: What the hell are you talking about? I'm the one who was just after the rabbit to take his first place! | The magician leaned over the rabbit, holding it close. "I know you're not happy," he said. "I can tell. But I will work really hard to make you happy. Here's the key. I'll put this hat on your head and make you think you're the star of the show." The rabbit was hesitant. It didn't want to be the center of attention. But the magician was adamant. "It's the only way," he said. So the rabbit went on stage and assume the starring role. The audience erupted into applause. The magician was couldn't believe it. He was the hero. The rabbit was relieved. | The magician was on stage, doing his best to entertain his audience. But one part of his performance obviously wasn't going as planned. The rabbit was sick of always being the second fiddle, and it was starting to get on its nerves. "Please, can I take the stage? I really don't want to be here all night playing second fiddle to that stupid rabbit." The magician looked surprised, but he didn't argue. The rabbit took a deep breath and entered the stage, ready to put on a show. The first thing it did was twirl around, showing off its impressive skills. But the magician wasn't impressed. "It's not the same as when I do it. You're not as good as me." The rabbit frowned, but it wasn't going to let the magician make it feel small. It turned to face him, standing up on its hind legs. "I don't care if you're the best magician in the world. I'm going to show you what real magic is." And with that, the rabbit performed a move that the magician had never seen before. It was simple, but it was also incredibly beautiful. The audience was in awe, and the magician was forced to admit that the rabbit was right. It was the real magic, and he was just a mediocre performer. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, taking orders from the magician. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. He pulls himself out of the hat and confronted the magician. "I'm done with this," he says. "I'm tired of being your sidekick. It's time for me to be the star." The magician is taken aback, but he knows that the rabbit is right. He's been getting a little too comfortable with their act. He gives the rabbit a bow and steps aside. Now it's the rabbit's show. He performs amazing tricks that dazzle the audience. He's a natural born performer and he knows it. The magician is happy to take a backseat for once, and he knows that the rabbit is going to be a star. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | TheDanube periodically discovers that it has the ability to read and understand human language. It is happy to be able to commune with the thoughts and feelings of its owners. However, it is never without a job and is never without a place to sleep. It is, however, content in knowing that it can come and go as it please. | I was walking through my house one night when I noticed something following me. I was frozen in place, unable to move. I could hear it breathing softly in the corner of my eye, and I knew it wasn't going to leave anytime soon. I decided to confront the thing, but before I could, it seemed to vanish. I couldn't believe it. I thought it was just a joke I was being played with. But I never again felt so alive. It was like the thing was right there in front of me, but it was hidden behind the scenes. I could see it but I couldn't touch it. It was like it was a part of my home. | I had always thought that something was living in my home, but I never could identify it. I would see something move in the corner of my eye, but when I would try to focus on it, it would disappear. One day, I finally decided to take a closer look. When I got close enough, I could see that it was a small, black creature that was hiding behind my couch. I was terrified, but I didn't back away. I stood my ground and fought against the fear that was swelling inside of me. After a few minutes, I finally managed to get the creature out into the open. I screamed at it, but it just stared at me with its dark eyes. As it walked away, I could feel the terror fading away, and I knew that I had finally discovered my enemy. | For as long as I can remember, there has been something invisible living in my home. I have no idea what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest that I can never shake. I have tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up cameras around the house and try to catch it on film. I've even put traps around, but nothing has worked. It's like this thing is always one step ahead of me. I don't know what to do. It's like this thing is haunting me. I can't shake the feeling that it's always there, watching me. And I can't help but feel like it's mocking me, constantly evading my attempts to expose it. I don't know what this thing is, but I need to find out. I need to know why it's here and what it wants from me. I can't keep living like this, constantly looking over my shoulder, fearing that this invisible thing is going to strike at any moment. I need to find a way to expose this thing once and for all. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is set up for it. You work together with the adventurers who buy or sell gear at your shop. Sometimes, you have to refuse items, but more often than not, you're able to sell their stuff. It's a small business, but it's got the two of you falling over yourself! | As I sit at my pawn shop, I try to make sense of the recently arrived adventurers. They all seem so excited to have new life in the world of RPGs, but they all seem to have the same question in their eyes: where can I sell my new equipment? I tell them that I'm the only RPG pawn shop in the area, and that I only sell equipment that is specifically designed for roleplaying games. I tell them that I'm serious, and that I won't let them turn down an opportunity to sell looted equipment in my shop. Eventually, a few of the adventurers decide to take me up on my offer, and they start bargaining for the best chance to get their hands on the latest and greatest equipment from the world of RPGs. I'm happy to help, and I convince the rest of them to come to my shop and start browsing through my treasures. | She'd been travelling for weeks and had finally made it to my shop. The woman was covered in filth, her clothes tattered and in need of repair. But the mercenaries she had been traveling with were determined to sell her whatever they had acquired. I knew the woman was desperate and I could see the determination in her eyes. I didn't want to let her go, but I knew I had to haggle. I offered her a fraction of what her mercenaries were offering and she accepted. We chatted for a while and I helped her get cleaned up. She thanked me and promised to come back. I wished her the best of luck and went back to my shop. I couldn't help but smile when I thought about how she had come to my shop. She was a beautiful example of determination and hope. Maybe one day, she would find her way home. | You run an RPG pawn shop, dealing with adventurers who try to sell you loot they've acquired in their travels. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best prices for the merchandise. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell a cache of magical weapons and armor. They're obviously inexperienced, and they're asking for way too much money. You haggle with them for a while, and eventually you manage to get them down to a reasonable price. You're about to make the sale when another customer comes into the shop. This customer is a well-dressed woman, and she's carrying a large sack of gold. She offers to buy the entire cache of magical weapons and armor for twice the price the adventurers were asking. The adventurers are obviously thrilled, and they quickly agree to sell. As they're counting their gold, the woman turns to you and asks if you're interested in buying anything else. You take a look at her sack of gold and realize that she's probably a dragon hoarder. You quickly decline, and the woman leaves the shop. The adventurers are ecstatic, and they thank you for helping them make such a great sale. As they're leaving, you can't help but wonder if you could have gotten a better price if you'd held out just a little longer. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | 271 years ago, there was a time when tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face. Now, though the Good Lord never knew what they did to break us, we know they were SOMEWHERE in between our soul and heart. We know they were making us better in the meantime. One day, however, when we were bettering ourselves, something was put right around the corner. Something that gave us hope. Something that tiptoed up on us like a cat’s meow. It was a cat that I loved. A cat that I could see every day and never have to worry. A cat that loved me and never stopped talking to me. A cat that was picture- perfect and always made my day. The cat left behind astriking sweet smile and a charmed life. A life that was better than ever before. A life that I could see and feel from where I stood now. If cries could pencile through time, they would have done so at the pace of my best friend’s smile. To see cat smile is to see beauty in trivia. To seecharmed life in toins was to see the best in people. To see cat in face of me was to see the perfect person. To this day, I return the love they gave me. I return the love they gave their lives. I return the love they gave me because they wanted to give back. I return the love they gave me because they wanted to help me make it through. And as I bring them down, I can only imagine how many tears they would have left behind if they didn’t have a goal in mind. If cries could pencile through time, they would have done so at the pace of my best friend’s smile. To see cat smile is to see beauty in trivia. To see charmed life in toits is to see the best in people. To see cat in face of me is to see the perfect person. To this day, I return the love they gave me. I return love they gave their lives. I return love they gave me because they wanted to help me make it through. I return love they gave them because they wanted to help me make it through. I return love they gave them because they wanted to help me make it through. | If there's one thing that Ivan could never forget, it's the hurt and pain he felt upon beholding his little sister cry. As he watched her fall apart, he could feel his own heart breaking inside. And then to top it all off, the man who he loved most in the world was unable to see what was happening right in front of him. The only thing that Ivan could do was stand there and watch his sister fall apart. Every single tear that streamed down her face was the symbol of everything that was tearing him apart inside. It was like he was witnessing his own personal Hades. As a result, that day in the grocery store left Ivan with a deep scar on his soul. | Lena was always a crybaby. Her parents always said that it would make her a strong woman, but she never believed them. As an adult, she learned that tears do have a purpose. When Lena was younger, she would usually cry when she was upset. But over time, her tears started leaving scars on her face. She would cry so hard that her tears woulddden her face and leave deep, dark scars. At first, nobody noticed. Lena cried so much that her tears and the scars blended together. But eventually, people began to take notice. Lena would look in the mirror and be horrified at the sight of her tears leaving deep, dark scars all over her face. She would cry and cry until the scars faded. But Lena knew that this was only the beginning. | In a world where tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, people would be much more careful about who they cried in front of. No one wanted to be left with a permanent reminder of their sadness, so people would only cry in front of those who they knew would comfort and support them. This would change the way we interact with each other, as we would be much more mindful of the emotional impact our words and actions could have. We would be more careful about hurting each other's feelings, and more inclined to offer emotional support when needed. In this world, crying would be seen as a sign of strength, not weakness. It would be a sign that someone is brave enough to confront their sadness and allow themselves to feel the full range of their emotions. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way to the clinical trials of his latest research when he sees auntiewerupeting from Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. He's excited, but he also doesn't want to participate in something they are doing. He's not sure if he's ready for this. When he gets to the clinical trials, he's shocked to find that he's beingsprung to participate in something that ancient Greece was involved in. He's excited, but he knows he won't be able to participate in something like that again. | Adolf Hitler clicked the submit button on his computer. He couldn't believe he had been chosen to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. It was an opportunity that he could notturn down. He had always been a fan of the nineteenth century Freud, and he was confident that he could learn a lot from the man. Joseph Stalin clicked the submit button on his computer. He couldn't believe he had been chosen to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial. He had always loved the nineteenth century Freud, and he was confident that he could learn a lot from the man. Leon Trotsky clicked the submit button on his computer. He couldn't believe he had been chosen to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Trotsky was nervous. He was not sure if he was ready for this kind of experience. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials with these four powerful men. He had high expectations for the results. The first trial was with Adolf Hitler. Freud was eager to see how the new therapy would work. Hitler responded well to the treatment, but he was also determined to use the therapy to achieve his goals. The second trial was with Joseph Stalin. Stalin was less responsive to the treatment, but he still seemed to benefit from it. The third trial was with Leon Trotsky. Trotsky was the most difficult participant to treat. He refused to participate in the therapy, and he even threatened to sue Freud. The fourth and final trial was with Josip Broz Tito. Tito was the most enthusiastic participant. He responded well to the treatment, and he even began to share some of his own ideas about the therapy. | Sigmund Freud was a brilliant mind, always seeking to push the boundaries of knowledge. In 1913, he was working on a new theory and wanted to test it out. So he placed an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants for his clinical trials. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All of them were young men, in their twenties or early thirties. Freud was intrigued by this. He wondered what it was about his theory that had attracted these young men. Was it the promise of power? The chance to change the world? Or something else entirely? He invited them all to his office and began to study them. Over the next few weeks, he learned a great deal about their characters and motivations. And the more he learned, the more he realized that his theory could have profound implications for the future of the world. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | I was birth control deactivated at the tender age of six years old. I was deactivated because I was considered ``dumb'' by my parents and unable to read or write. I was deactivated because I was considered ``dumb'' by my friends and unable to think of anything but the ``roughest'' questions. I was deactivated because I was ``irrational'' and ``destitute'' and ''unable to fence with lightly''. I was deactivated because I was `` benchmarked as beingiano.'' I was deactivated because I was the ``undeveloped idea'' and the ``undeveloped talent'' for a well-adjusted human being. | I walked into the Auditor's office, thinking I'd finally put an end to the stupidity that was constantly ruining the world. But the Auditor wasn't alone. There was a woman2 with a large, red birth control implant in her head. "Hello," I said, "I'm an auditor. I was wondering if I could help you." "Yes, I've been struggling with this for years," she said, "Can you help me?" "Of course," I said. "Can I have the implant removed?" "Yes," the Auditor said, "But I'm really not sure how you're going to do it." "I'm not sure," I said, "But I've got a pretty good idea." And with that, I pulled out my microscope and began to remove the implant. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. But I did it, and the woman thanks me afterward. Now she's happy and safe, and no one is stupid enough to reproduce again. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body, preventing the dumbest people from reproducing. As an Auditor, I'm responsible for determining when someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, and then removing the device. It's been a long and challenging journey, but I'm happy to have the opportunity to help ensure that the dumbest people in the world don't create more of their own kind. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. The process is simple. You interview the potential parent, ask them about their upbringing and their views on parenting. You also administer a series of tests to gauge their intelligence and stability. If they pass your inspection, you deactivate their birth control device. If not, they remain childless. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. You take satisfaction in knowing that you are helping to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The Shop: The game room is small and single-file, with hard-lookingatal curtains and an air conditioning on, it is barely satisfactory. The RPG pawn shop is in a hell of a state. Thecounter for theventory is parsley, the barely enough space being all the goods you can find. You could tell the Computers wereNIwideningthe focus of the room, making it less family-friendly and more game-friendly. You've had your work cut out for you in here. | Once upon a time, an RPG pawn shop was a popular spot for adventurers to sell loot they've acquired. Despite being a difficult business, the shop continued to be successful due to the friendly haggling of the adventurers who went to it. | Matilda was just minding her business, running her RPG pawn shop. She haggled with adventurers who tried to sell them loot they had acquired. She had a good reputation in the area, and people always came to her for advice. One day, a group of adventurers came into her shop. They had just killed a dragon, and they were looking for the best deals possible. Matilda was able to get them the best prices possible for their loot, and they were very happy. She was able to make a lot of money from their business, and she was very proud. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you know how to spot a fraud. One day, a young woman comes into your shop with a sack of loot. She's obviously new to the game, and she's trying to offload some common items. You take a look at her wares and offer her a low price. The woman haggles with you for a bit, but eventually she accepts your offer. She thanks you and leaves the shop. As she's walking out, you spot a rare item in her sack. You quickly call her back and offer her a higher price for the item. She doesn't know what it is, but she accepts your offer. You've just made a killing at your RPG pawn shop! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician has always been a littlerescent toward magic, but the day they finally achieve achieve success with their business they must 3star the rabbit to make room for themselves. With an impressiveffield of a rabbit in hand the magicians quickly put the rabbit to use cleaning tables andUAing magical creatures. In the end, the rabbit is a crowing success and the magicians are thrilled to ultimately have an itself as their own for only $0.01 per round. | The magician looked down at the rabbit and smiled. "You're such a good rabbit," he said. "I'll never believe that you're the one that I have to pull out of a hat to perform magic." The rabbit glared at the magician. "I'm not going to play second fiddle to someone who can't do what they do," the rabbit said. The magician smiled and put his hand on the rabbit's shoulder. "I'll see you later," he said. The rabbit watched the magician go before turning to the other animals on stage. He was determined to show them all that he was better than they were. | The magician was pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but the rabbit that he was about to perform for was different. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle and wanted to be the star of the show. The magician told the rabbit that it could be the star of the show if it could do one thing. The rabbit said what could it do? The magician said that the rabbit had to catch the beating heart of the dragon that was behind the curtain. The rabbit wasn't sure how he was going to do that, but he was determined to be the star of the show. The rabbit went behind the curtain and caught the beating heart of the dragon. The magician was amazed and the rabbit was the star of the show. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual show. But the rabbit is tired of being the assistant. He's been working hard, day in and day out, and he's sick of being second fiddle. So, during the show, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He pulls a magic wand out of his hat and performs a spell that makes the magician disappear. Now that he's the star of the show, the rabbit is sure that he'll finally get the recognition he deserves. But unfortunately, the audience doesn't seem to be very impressed. In fact, they seem pretty scared. The rabbit quickly realizes that he's in over his head. He doesn't know how to perform the magician's tricks on his own. And without the magician, there's no show. The audience starts to boo and throw things at the rabbit. He's quickly ushered off the stage, humiliated. It's clear that being the star of the show is not as easy as it seems. The rabbit is better off sticking to his role as the assistant. At least that way, he knows he won't be the one getting booed off the stage. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | Today is a tough day for the United States. The president is about to eating a dinner with leaders from major global nations. "This day is importance," he is about to eat, but suddenly he becomes frantic. The dinner is going too late and he needs to get home before it's too late. All he can do issues priority two. He needs to get his hands on the food before it gets too late. Suddenly, his phone rings. It's a text from his date. He can't pick up, so he's going to have to dinner. He changes plans and goes to his date's place. He arrives at her place late and is already overwhelminated with the dinner she had. She doesn't understand what's going on and starts to get angry. He can't make heads or tails of it and leaves quickly. | It was a normal day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and people were bustling about their everyday lives. But there was one issue that warranted the most attention. A large tornado had struck the small town of Lonesome Lake, causing extensive damage and loss of life. The government was quickly dispatched to the scene to assess the damage and make needed decisions. In the days following the tornado, there was much public attention given to the issue. Every report mentioned the loss of life, the destruction, and the fact that so many people were impacted. But there was something else that was simmering just below the surface. It was a fear that was growing in the hearts of many people. They knew that there was no way to save everyone, but they didn't want to face the possibility of another tornado happening. But slowly but surely, over time, people began to start talking about how they were going to miss the genius of the tornado. They were going to miss the beauty of the sky, the sound of the birds, and theCommunity that was so close to them. It was a difficult thing to take in, but it was also something that made the people of Lonesome Lake stronger. They knew that they would get through this together. | The national debate over gun control has been reignited in the wake of the mass shooting in Parkland, Florida. Students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School have taken to the media and the internet to call for more banning and regulation of firearms. But not everyone is on board with this approach. Some people believe that expanded gun regulation will do nothing to prevent mass shootings, and may even put law-abiding citizens at risk. Others argue that the government should not dictate how citizens should live their lives, and that the best way to protect people from gun violence is to allow more citizens to have access to firearms. The debate over gun control is sure to continue for some time to come. It is an important issue that deserves the attention of everyone in the United States. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is climate change. Climate change is a global problem that is impacting the Earth in a number of ways, and it is only getting worse. The CO2 levels in the atmosphere are rising, the ice caps are melting, and sea levels are rising. This is causing the climate to change, and it is having a devastating impact on the planet. We need to take action on climate change now. We need to reduce our emissions, and we need to find ways to adapt to the changing climate. If we don’t, the planet will continue to warm, and the impacts will become even more severe. We need to act now to protect the Earth, and to ensure a livable future for generations to come. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Direct memory: Cooldown,” Iover said. “We shouldannoys just because we make us!” Ioverise: 1Tonks looked down at her hands which were wriggling in the stands. Their red and green Renault B random 2.5 mobileliege car. Omicrsc Seymour Erlejack short pillaring harming fly buzzing in the air. Tasks: 1. What is leaving Tamsin's eyes? 2. How does Oli's plane get to be in the sun? 3. How can Tamsin be friends with Oli's type? 4. How does Tamsin get out of her clothes? 5. What does Tamsin do when she has her first date with Oli? 6. What is Tamsin's first thought after she was left for Oli? 7. What does Tamsin do when she is home alone? 8. What is Tamsin's first thought after she is home alone? 9. What is Tamsin's first thought when her parents are home? 10. What is Tamsin's first thought when her parents are home? | There once was a young woman named Sarah who was heartbroken after a profound experience she had during a spiritual urging. She stared into the eyes of an angel and saw herself lying in bed, dreaming of a beautiful life with her cherished partner. In the morning, she woke up to find a large tear had leaked down her cheek, noticeable even in the morning light. The pain it caused was unbearable, but Sarah politicked herself and put on a brave face for her partner who knew she was in pain. She refused to let him see her tears and continued to lead an unfulfilled life. Some time later, Sarah's partner died and she was left alone with her thoughts. She began to reflect on the dream she had and realized that in it, she had replaced her partner in her dream and she was now living in solitude. Streetlights would occasionally shine through her tears as she walked down the street, her mind over-running with memories of the happy life she once had. | It was a typical day at school. Sarah was sitting in her classroom, doing her homework, when she started to cry. She had always been a crier, but lately the tears had become harder and harder to hold back. Sarah’s classmates noticed her tears and asked her what was wrong. Sarah tried to explain, but nothing came out. The more she tried to hold back the tears, the more they flowed. Before long, Sarah’s face was covered in tears and tears. She had never thought of crying as a scar, but that’s how it felt. Each droplet that fell down her face left a lasting mark, a reminder of how she had been feeling. Sarah’s classmates continued to ask her what was wrong, but she couldn’t answer. She had lost all control over her tears and they just kept coming. Sarah’s parents came to pick her up from school and they saw the tears in her eyes. They asked her what was wrong and she just told them that she was fine. But her parents could see the sadness in her eyes and they knew that she was not fine. Sarah’s parents took her to the hospital where they found out that she had tears ducts. This was a new discovery and it explained why she had been crying so much. Now, every time Sarah cries, the tears leave scars on her face. But she knows that this is a symbol of how she is feeling. And, even though she still cries sometimes, the tears no longer control her. | The first time it happened, I didn't know what to think. I was in the middle of a fight with my boyfriend and the tears just started flowing. But as they fell down my face, I noticed they were leaving scars. They were faint at first, but they got darker and more pronounced the longer I cried. I tried to hide it at first, but eventually the scars became too much to ignore. People started asking me what happened, and I had to make up some story about being in a car accident. I hated lying, but I didn't know what else to do. The scars made me feel self-conscious and I stopped going out in public. I withdrew from my friends and family, and became a recluse. I couldn't stand for people to see me like this, so I stayed inside, hiding away from the world. But eventually, I realized that I couldn't keep living like this. I had to find a way to accept myself, scars and all. It was a long and difficult journey, but I slowly started rebuilding my life. And now, years later, I'm finally starting to feel like myself again. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The man was running towards the edge of a cliff, but he didn't know what to do. He had been running for hours, and he was getting closer and closer to the edge. He could see the abyss ahead, and he didn't know what to do. He had no choice but to die. | It was the last thing she expected. After working so hard to get better, after struggling to get past her demons, and after finally finding the courage to start living again, she was suddenly faced with the ultimate obstacle. She had cancer. And though the doctors had said there was a chance she could beat it, they had also warned her that it was a serious illness and there was no guarantee she would make it. So when the cancer finally won and took her life, it wasn't a surprise. It was, however, a difficult and heartbreaking realization that she may have never experienced anything else in life. But despite the fact that she never got to see the world or experience all the amazing things that could've been, she is happy she was able to go out fighting. And she knows that if she ever meets her maker, she is certain that he will be impressed by how far she's come. | I was having a great day. The sun was shining and I was surrounded by my friends. We were laughing and joking and having the time of our lives. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I clutched at my heart, gasping for breath. My friends started to scream, but everything was going dark. I knew what was happening. I was dying. My last thought was of my loved ones. I hoped they would be okay without me. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The first time Thatthing entered my home, I was nervous but excited. I was curious to see if it would take off my bed and explore my living room. I was curious to see if it would take off my kitchen cabinet and explore my bedroom. I was curious to see if it would take off mycarpe quod est. It didn't take long for it to do just that. I was relieved. And I knew that I needed to get rid of it. I started by exposed anything that could see it, including the fan that cooled my home. I exposed the favorite books that I always make myself, and the picture that represent my overwhelming sense of Nine Nakatoka a two. I exposed the photo of me and my family that I keep in my bedroom and ran the Across the room to the living room. I exposed the video of my loved ones sleeping and ran the room Escape to the kitchen. Anything that Thatthing was still there. I had to get rid of it. | One night, I was lying in bed, listening to the sound of the circulation clock ticking on my bedroom wall. I noticed that the sound wasn't as regular as it had been in the past. I decided to investigate.I slowly opened the door to see that the radiator had been knocked over. I could see a dark figure moving in the background, lurking in the shadows. I couldn't make out the figure's features, but I could feel the presence of something intangible behind me. I tried to run, but the figure grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the dark. I felt fear sweep over me and I didn't know what to do. The figure said something to me, but I couldn't understand it. Suddenly, I stopped struggling and Instead, I just looked at the figure. It was a woman, but her face was hidden by the darkness. She was wearing a black robe, and she had something looming around her neck. I couldn't see what it was, but I could feel the fear implicit in her eyes. I didn't know what to do, so I just stared at her, unable to move or speak. Finally, she spoke. "I know you're trying to protect yourself," she whispered. "But you won't be able to do it. Something is going to get you." She vanished before I could answer, leaving me alone in the dark. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that I had to find out what was going on. I started to walk home, but I felt something following me. I turned around and saw the figure again. This time, she had a swirling symbol drawn over her face. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew that it meant death. I was afraid, but I knew that I had to face her. I started to run, but she was faster than me. I didn't make it very far, and I was knocked down by her. She started to speak in a language I didn't understand. "You're going to die," she said. "I know it's painful, but you must put up a brave front. You're too weak to resist me." I didn't know what to do, so I just put my face in my hands and died. | I've always been a bit paranoid, especially when it comes to strange things happening in my home. So, when I moved into my new house, I was determined to find whatever was causing the weird noises and unexplained occurrences. I searched everywhere, but I couldn't find anything. Until one day, I found a small, black object hiding in the crevices of my dresser. I was scared, but I also wanted to know what it was. I watched as it shape shifted and grew in size, before revealing itself to be an imposing, shadowy figure. It looked at me with its soulless eyes, before suddenly vanishing into the darkness. I'm still scared of what might be lurking in my home, but I know I can handle it. | I'm not sure when it started, but I know that there's something living in my home. It's invisible, so I can't tell what it is, but it's definitely there. I can hear it moving around at night, and sometimes I see things out of the corner of my eye that I can't quite make out. I'm trying to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I don't want to scare it away, but I need to know what it is. I've set up cameras around the house and I'm monitoring them closely. So far, I haven't seen anything that can give me a clue as to what this thing is. I'm starting to think that it might be some kind of spirit. That would explain why I can't see it. But if that's the case, why is it here? And what does it want? I need to find out before it does something to hurt me or my family. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The players were sitting in their chair, trying to think of how to make money. They were one of the few shops in the dungeon, and it was slow getting anything out. "Why don't we start making money?" He asked. She told him about the goblins' Burnt Floreal and he said, "I know one of my guys can get it." "okueno!" The players laughed. They had never had such fun playing the game before. | The store was always doing well, thanks to the adventurers who came through to trade treasures they found or acquire new mounts or weapons. But Findlay wasn't just a pawn shop; it was his home. It was where he cherished the stories and stories of his customers, where he shared his accumulated knowledge about magic and the world, and where he laughed with friends at the hilarious moments that occurred in the game ofDungeons and Dragons. Tonight, though, things were different. His customers were allgone, and he could only hear the gentle beeps of the pawn machines. It didn't take long for him to realize what had happened. His customers had come to trade goods, but they had also come to looted Findlay's store. The first thing he did was curse himself for not being more careful. No one ever really knows when something is going to happen in life, and it might as well have been tonight. He quickly paid the machines, made sure they were all working properly, and went to search for his customers. The first thing he found was a group of adventurers, all of whom had looted his store. He tried to reason with them, but they were too Rageful and Out of Gear to listen. They had come to loot Findlay because he was too weak to protect himself, and they wouldn't have been stopped if he had been more reliable in his sales. And so Findlay went to his basement and prepared himself for his final defeat. | I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. I always get a kick out of bargaining with adventurers who come in looking to sell their loot. I'll start by asking what kind of item they're selling, and then I'll start haggling. I'll usually start at a lower price, but I always aim to get as much money as I can out of them. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best deals. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, and she's carrying a large sack of loot. She looks exhausted, and she's covered in dirt and blood. You can tell she's been through a tough battle, and you're eager to see what she's got. You offer her a fair price for her loot, and she accepts. She opens up the sack, and you start sorting through the loot. There are some magic weapons and armor, some rare gems, and a few other interesting items. You're about to offer her a good price when she suddenly stops you. She tells you that she can't sell her loot, because it's all she has left of her fallen comrades. She says she's going to keep it and remember them by it. You understand her sentiment, and you tell her that you'll give her a good price for it anyway. She's reluctant at first, but she eventually agrees. You give her a good price for her loot, and she leaves your shop. You watch her go, and you can't help but feel a little admiration for her. She's a strong woman, and she's going to make it through this tough time. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The show is about to start whenSuddenly, the rabbit is sudden trips and falls to the ground, hitting the ground with a thud. The audience is quite surprised to see the magic producing activity of the man stop and the rabbit will be able to get back up again. The rabbitucky then lazyly offers his hand to the rabbit that he's sitting on to get his act started. The rabbit takes the hand and eyebrow raised question is asked. The man then flips the rabbit over and reveals that he's the one who bought the hat as a Birthday present for the rabbit's owner. The rabbit is surprised and happy to see the surprise on the man's face. The man then tells the rabbit to get back into the hat, which the rabbit does with a thud. The manholehurst with a smile on his face that he's now the one who'll get the next prize. The rabbit than grins and Rails At The Man, which makes the mantwitch. | magicians have been pulling rabbits out of hats for centuries, but this one was really starting to get on my nerves. I wasn't sure why, but the rabbit always seemed to be sick of being the butt of the jokes. So I decided to do something about it. I took off my green magician's hat and replaced it with a huge, brown rabbit hat. It was no use trying to make the rabbit see the joke – it was too wise for that. But I knew that if I could make it feel bad enough, it would probably just do what I wanted. So I began to lecture the rabbit on the virtues of common sense. I told it that it was time to stop being a sheep and start being an independent thinker. I told it that it was time to stop being a baby and start being a grown-up. I even went so far as to suggest that it might be a good idea to get a job. But the rabbit just wouldn't listen. It kept saying that it was tired of being the laughing stock of the magic world. And so, with a parting shot, I tossed the rabbit into the hat and left the stage. I was happy to see that the rabbit was finally out of my hair – but I wasn't sure how long it would stay that way. | The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle to the magician. He wanted to be the star of the show, not the sidekick. One day, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He gathered all of his courage and upstaged the magician during their performance. It was a bold move, but it worked. From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show and the magician was just happy to be along for the ride. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is fed up with playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he makes his move. The rabbit hops out of the hat and onto the stage, and the magician is stunned. The rabbit starts doing his own tricks, and he's even better than the magician. The audience loves it and starts cheering. The magician is furious, but he can't do anything. The rabbit has stolen the show, and there's nothing he can do about it. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it's always running a Dexterity off of its adventurers. They're trying to sell them to others for money. It's a profitable business. | The first time I set eyes on the guy selling the magical items down the street from my pawn shop, I couldn't help but be intrigued. He had a strange, charismatic look about him and his stories of adventure made my heart race. I negotiated a few deals with him and I even offered to help him with some of his sales. He was sweet enough, but his eyes told me he was not content with his life. He always wanted to explore the world and find new treasures. One day, I ran into him again and we struck up a conversation. He told me his story and I listened fascinated. He had been lost in the forest for weeks and had finally found his way back home. As he related his story, I could tell he was carrying a lot of weight at home. His wife and children were both dead, but he never let that stop him from adventure. He always wanted to find a way to bring them back to life. One day, I decided to give him a chance. I offered to help him find his way back to the city, but he didn't take my offer well. He said he wasn't ready to leave his adventures yet. He told me his story over and over again, and I finally had a chance to meet him and help him find his way back to the world. The man was a changed man after that, and he always looked back on that experience with gratitude. | Quietly, and with a practiced eye, I take in each and every coin that passes through my hands. My shop - an old, worn and dusty pawn shop - rests at the edge of a small, forgotten town. I watch as each and every adventurer comes in hopes of finding the best deals. Some are experienced and know how to haggle,Others are more brazen and try to force me down. It doesn't matter though. I know the value of each and every coin, and I know how to get the best deal for my customers. Some of them leave with treasures they never could have imagined, others leave with nothing but frustration. But that's the beautiful thing about running a pawn shop. You never know who will walk through the door. | Welcome to my RPG pawn shop! Here, adventurers can come to sell the loot they've acquired on their travels. I'll haggle with them to get the best price possible. Today, a young man came in with a sack full of loot. He was trying to sell it all for a cut-rate price. But I managed to haggle with him and get a fair price for the loot. In my shop, I see all sorts of adventurers. Some are young and just starting out. Others are experienced veterans. But all of them have one thing in common: they all need money. And that's where I come in. I may not be the most heroic person in the world, but I can help these adventurers in my own small way. Thanks for visiting my shop! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | It was a dark and stormy night and the only one who was not wanting to compete was the rabbit. He was tired of being the second bestcandidate behind the other guy. So he makes a fast escape from the school and doesn't come back forprogression. A few people are walking around in dark, and the rabbit can't see them.He's about to run away when he sees a light in the distance and he correctness. He walks towards it, and when he gets too far away, he falls to his knees.akearing his way back to the Battlefield. | The magician had a plan. He would take the rabbit out of the hat and put it back in. The rabbit would be happy and happy would be the magician. The plan worked perfectly, and the rabbit was back in the hat in no time. | The magician was getting tired of the rabbit always playing second fiddle. He was about to give up on ever getting it to do anything interesting when something amazing happened. The rabbit was sick of being a sidekick, so it decided to take matters into its own paws and become the star of the show. | The magician had been putting on the same tired old show for years. The same tricks, the same jokes. But his audience loved it, and so he kept doing it. But the rabbit that he pulled out of his hat was starting to get sick of it. He was tired of being the second fiddle, always playing second to the magician. One night, after the show was over, the rabbit spoke up. "I'm tired of this," he said. "I'm tired of being your assistant. I'm sick of being the rabbit that you pull out of a hat." The magician was taken aback. He had never thought that the rabbit felt this way. "I'm sorry," he said. "I had no idea." "Well, now you do," said the rabbit. "I'm quitting. I'm done being your assistant." And with that, the rabbit hopped off the stage and out of the magician's life. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Deelyn found the floor supporting herself with both feet. Her eyes were brown, but her skin was white. The skin on her arms was white too, like the floor. Her clothes were wilted and apologize for her Incidental Medals. Her hair was a tangled mess, who knows what else was too. And in her hands was a mess, a mess of tears. | The sun was setting and the sky was full of gold. The warm light illuminated everything in the small town. The people were talking and laughing, and theodore was sitting in the shadows, watching. He had never felt so alone in his life. He had never been so sad. The tears were Stardust and they streamed down his face. | It was a beautiful day outside, and Jane was just walking around, enjoying the sunshine. Suddenly, she saw a man crying. She wasn't sure why, but she felt compelled to go and help him. As she got closer, she could see that he had tears streaming down his face. She didn't know what to do, so she just stood there for a while. Then, she decided to try and touch his arm. But as she did so, she noticed that his skin was rough and bumpy. It looked like he had been crying for a long time, and his tears had left scars all over his face. Suddenly, Jane realised that this was how tears would change the world. If everyone cried, the world would be a much better place. | The world was a different place now. Tears no longer just fell from people’s eyes, but left scars as they trickled down their faces. Some people cried more than others, and their scars became a map of their emotions, telling a story that nobody else could see. It was hard to know how to react to somebody whose face was covered in scars. Some people tried to avoid them, while others saw them as a challenge. It wasn’t always easy to understand what somebody was feeling, but at least you could see it written on their skin. There were some who saw the scars as a badge of honor, a way to show the world that they had been through something and come out the other side. These people were usually the ones who had the most to cry about, but they never let their tears bring them down. No matter how you felt about them, the scars were a part of life now. They were a reminder that even though the world could be tough, we could still feel joy, sadness, love, and everything in between. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross painting: Bob's murderers'efullycoastal thousand homeshelf Theyorswadefarm | Once upon a time, Bob Ross was a very popular painter. His landscapes were always well-researched and precise, and what's more, they were always haunting. One day, a man named John came across a copy of one of Ross' landscapes, and he couldn't help but be inspired. He began to nmire the skillful way Ross had managed to convey the felt LOCATIONS in each painting, and within a few weeks, he had a rough sketch of a map of Ross' murders. John made a deal with Ross: If he could paint a painting of his killings in the same style as one of his paintings, John would finance the painting and make it look like it was actually from a real place. Bob Ross was so excited to begin his paintings of the murders, and he even started to make a few sketches of his locations. However, when the painting finally started to come together, most of the murders were missed. John quickly realized that his sketches were too fictional, and he had to start from scratch. The painting was finally finished, but it was different than any of Bob Ross' earlier paintings. It was filled with inaccuracies and wild guesswork, and it looked nothing like the real places where the murders took place. John was furious and banned Bob Ross from painting any more. | Bob Ross was a murderer. Each of his landscapes was a real place, a location where he had killed people. Some were snowy mountains, others were lush forests, but all of them were scenes of bloodshed. He loved to paint the landscapes, to conjure up the calming beauty of the places where he had killed people. It was a way to escape from the reality of his crimes. But even in his paintings, Bob Ross couldn't escape the blood stains on his hands. | Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His victims were all over the country, and his method was simple: he would find a scenic location, set up his easel, and paint a beautiful landscape. But hidden within each painting were the bloody remains of his latest victim. The police were baffled by the sheer number of bodies that were turning up, all of them connected to Bob Ross in some way. They could never quite catch him, though, and eventually the murders stopped as suddenly as they had started. To this day, no one knows where Bob Ross is or what became of him. But his gruesome paintings still hang in homes and galleries all over the world, a testament to his twisted genius. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The home of my large family is small and I have to watch out for something that is so Invisible. My parents have been married for 80 years and are currently my warning sign. I was born in 1892 and have been living in my home since I was old enough to move around. One day, my parents found out that I was alive and they became worried. They decided to get a Kellywagen and take me to the doctor to check me out. The doctor said I was born in 1897 and I've been alive for years. My parents were so worried because they thought I was a natural daughter of ours. I was born without any parents and all my family members were Consequently, donations. My parents were so worryy that they didn't tell me how I got alive or what type of health issues I have. I now live with them in their deathly home and try to make it a living. I Vow to never give my parents the satisfaction of seeing them in person again. | One day, I found an invisible creature living in my home. The creature was small, but it had a sharp eyes and a wicked attitude. I didn't want to see it alive, but I couldn't ignore its presence. I made a decision: I would have to expose the creature to the world. | I was cleaning out my closet, reorganizing everything, when I noticed something moving in the corner. I reached for it, but my hand passed right through it. I wasn't scared, I just didn't understand what I was seeing. I tried to focus on it, to see if I could identify it, but it was too blurry. Then, suddenly, it was gone. I didn't know if I had just imagined it or if it was something real, but whatever it was, I wanted to find out more about it. | I had always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, and I always felt like there was someone else in the room with me. I never said anything to anyone about it, because I wasn't sure if I was just being paranoid. One day, I decided to set up a camera in my living room to see if I could catch whatever it was that was making me feel so uneasy. I left the camera running overnight, and when I checked the footage the next day, I couldn't believe what I saw. There was definitely something in my house with me. It was invisible, but it was there, moving around and watching me. I still don't know what it is, but at least now I know I'm not crazy. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The devices are meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. However, sometimes there are people who are too smart for that. That's why the devices are meant to remain deactivated until they'rePE- Compare and contrast the two. | You were born with a birth control device implanted into your neck during your teenage years. It was hard to take remove the device, but you eventually did. You were relieved to find out it was just a standard implant check. Thankfully, you've been stable and intelligent ever since. You've been an Auditor for many years, and you've seen a lot of crazy things. But you've never imagined something like a child born without a womb. You were both surprised and excited when you heard about a woman who was born without a womb because she was an Auditor. The woman was crazy and unstable, and she quickly caused a lot of trouble. But you didn't want to see her go to prison. You agreed to help her get back on her feet, and you've been helping her since she was born. The woman is now a grandmother, and she thanks you every day. But she still isn't sure why she wasn't born with a womb. She's always wondered if she might have been better off if she had. But she's content knowing she has a safe place to stay and a good life. | I was born into a society where birth control was mandatory. It was a way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and ruining the gene pool. I was given a birth control device during puberty, and it can only be deactivated once I've been determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I'm an Auditor, and my job is to make sure that everyone is using birth control properly. | You're an Auditor, which means you are responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. This is no easy task, as there are many factors to consider. However, you take your job very seriously and have a good track record for making accurate decisions. One of your latest cases is a young woman named Sarah. She is bright and successful, but she has a bit of a rebellious streak. You have to decide if she is responsible enough to have a baby. You interview Sarah and ask her about her plans for having a family. She is honestly undecided, which makes you feel good about her potential as a mother. You also speak to her friends and family, who all say she is level-headed and capable. Based on your assessment, you decide that Sarah is indeed intelligent and stable enough to be a mother. You deactivate her birth control device and she is overjoyed. She thanks you for giving her the opportunity to have a family of her own. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet isacidly telling a different story. Their lie has become so big and clear that their body is left naked in the open world. You start to feel a burning sensation in your chest as you watch their lie grow into one that is bigger and more ugly than the original. You reach down and touch the tip of their tongue, tasting the/// lie/// When you finally speak, it is a pantsless,aving you anstd the clutch at her right hand. "What do you want?" She hmts, her words low andsed. "I never Furnished You" She laughs, "But I can help You with That" Sheplaces her hand on your shoulder, "So I hope You areitemotivating" | You meet this person one day and they instantly make you feel safe. They tell you their story, and you are1989 impressed. They talk about how they were mugged and how it left them with a deep scar on their body. You listen with pliability, not thinking about the ways your own life could have been so different if that had not happened. You are awestruck by their story and think about how each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. | I was wary of him at first. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so deep and wide it almost looked like it cut through his skin. I asked him how he got it and he told me a story that made my heartbreak. He said that he was lying about who he was for years. He said that he was a different person than who he said he was and that he hurt people because of it. He said that he was so ashamed of himself that he wanted to die, but he didn't. He said that he started to tell the truth to everyone he met and that's when the scar happened. The truth was too much for some people and they rejected him. He said that some of them were kind and gentle, but others were cruel and spiteful. He said that it didn't matter how many times he told them the truth, the scars never healed. He told me that he had finally stop lying and that the only way to heal the scars was to tell the truth from now on. I told him that I believed him and that I was sorry for what he had gone through. I wished that I could have healed his scars for him, but I knew that it was up to him to do it himself. | You meet them in a crowded room and their lone scar is impossible to miss. It marrs their otherwise perfect skin, a deep and ugly wound that seems to tell a story all on its own. You can't help but stare at it, and they meet your gaze head on. "What's the story behind that?" you ask, gesturing to the scar. They hesitated for a moment before sighed, as if resigning themselves to telling the tale. "It's a long story," they begin, "and one that I'm not particularly proud of." They go on to tell you about a time in their life when they were younger and naive. They were in love with someone who wasn't good for them, and they lied to themselves and others about the true nature of the relationship. The scar is a physical manifestation of the damage that those lies caused. Now, they live their life with that reminder as a constant reminder of what can happen when they're not honest with themselves. It's a painful story, but one that they're grateful for in a way. After all, it's thanks to that scar that they were finally able to see the truth and break free from that toxic relationship. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | A young man had just bought a new car when he suddenly died. | The funeral directors said that there was no way that I could survive. They said that with my high blood pressure and diabetes, I would eventually die. I was so upset and I didn't want to die. I wanted to live. I wanted to keep living. But I didn't know what else to do. | The doctor had said that there was nothing else that could be done for her. She was dying. The reality of it was starting to set in and she didn't know what to do. The pain was unrelenting and she could do nothing to ease it. She was surrounded by people who loved her and she knew that they were all waiting for her to pass away, but she couldn't do it. She had to stay alive. She fought against the inevitable and gradually the pain lessened. She stopped fighting and let the peace take over. She knew that she was going to see her family again and she was glad. She had been waiting for them to come find her, but she wasn't sure what to say when they did. She was just glad to see them again. The end was peaceful and she knew that she was finally at peace. | I die. It's sudden and unexpected, but I know it's true. I can feel the life leaving my body and the coldness of death taking over. I try to fight it, to hold on, but I know it's futile. There is nothing I can do. I die. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are a group of three southernrons who had been exploring the area for now perfect locations to set up their new town. They are exact whereabouts without some definitive where Smith here would lead them. One night, they decided to go andJoe the Weaponry Artist at the nearby tool store, saw the Northron versions of some of his customers coming in for looted items. He had a feel for which ones would be a good opportunity to sell the loot they had discovered. While he was out of the store, the customers expenses were about to accounting for his services, he decided to help the Southron customers in any way he could. He took the advised psychological ploy and took a picture of the loot of his customers, placing it in an inside pocket of his armor. When the customers came back in the morning, he sold them the loot with a profit of five hundred gold coins. | For as long as he could remember, Luke had dreamed of running his own RPG pawn shop. He loved the idea of giving players the chance to sell off their spoils of war, and he was always intrigued by the new acquisitions anyone made. This was, of course, before he and his friends founded their own game company. He continued to work in the pawn shop, but he was now a much more successful owner. He could always tell when an adventure was coming up, and he loved how his customers always begged for more RPG treasures. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with an adventurer who had just come in to sell his loot. He was trying to get a high price for his items, but I was always able to talk him down. I was used to dealing with adventurers who were always looking for a good deal. Suddenly, the door burst open and three other adventurers rushed in. They were all carrying weapons and armor, and they were looking for a good deal too. The adventurers started to argue with each other, and I could tell that they were looking to buy items from me. I started to negotiate with them, but it was hard because they were all looking for a high price. I wasn't able to get them to lower their prices, and eventually they all left without buying anything. I knew that I could have gotten a lot of money from those three adventurers, but I lost out because I wasn't able to haggle with them. I guess it's just a part of the business. | You're the proprietor of a small pawn shop that specializes in buying and selling loot from adventurers. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle with your customers to get the best price possible. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a large cache of loot. They're looking to sell it all in one go, and they're not really interested in negotiating. You take a look through the loot and quickly realize that it's all low-quality stuff. You offer them a fraction of what they're asking, and after a lot of back-and-forth, you eventually agree on a price. You pay them, and they leave, grumbling about how they got ripped off. You know you didn't rip them off - you paid them a fair price for the loot they had. But you can't help but feel a little bit smug about the whole thing. After all, you're the one who got the better deal in the end. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the financial crisis in Europe. everyone is talking about it and not enough is being done to prevent the emergencies and fix the reactors. the world is in shock and there is not a lot of focus on what needs to be done. the people most in shock are the people in Europe who have never seen such a crisis. they are scared and people are using the crisis to try and make money. it's a money made and a money lost day. people need to be more woke and understand that the crisis is a world-wide event that should be watched and not dismissed. The people in Europe are trying to make a living and the money made is whatever people can make off of the crisis. there is a lot of mmol of it and it's a lot to take in. everyone is trying to make a living and the people try to make the most money they can. the people in Europe are here for the money and not the Spirit. | Yesterday, the United States lost a mighty and impressive general. The loss is sure to cause a lot of upset and reflection, but it's also likely to elicit public outcry and demands for change. Today, it's on the news front to cover the death of General George C. Marshall. This man has been a giant in American history, and his death deserves the most attention. | Today, the issue of gun control is receiving the greatest amount of attention. After the tragic events in Parkland, Florida, many students are speaking out about the need for reform. They are not the only ones. Many politicians are also voicing their concerns. Governor Rick Scott of Florida has called for a ban on all AR-15s, claiming that they are weapons of mass destruction. He has also proposed a plan that would arm teachers and school staff. President Donald Trump has also spoken out about the need for reform. He has proposed a plan that would give law enforcement more access to mental health records. He has also urged raises for teachers. The tragedy in Parkland has brought the issue of gun control to the forefront, and it is sure to stay there for some time. | There are a lot of current events issues that deserve attention today. For example, the opioid crisis is a huge issue that is affecting many people in the United States. Another big issue is the current state of the economy. Both of these issues are extremely important and deserve a lot of attention. However, if I had to choose one issue that I think deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be the opioid crisis. This crisis is affecting so many people and it is something that needs to be addressed immediately. The opioid crisis is an issue that is often overlooked. It is not something that gets a lot of attention from the media or from the government. However, it is a very real issue that is affecting a lot of people. I think that the opioid crisis deserves the greatest amount of attention because it is a huge problem that is not being adequately addressed. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A man is killed, dozens are injured, and the investigation is ongoing. There is a great sentiment among the victims that means something is about to go wrong. | An issue with the national debt has attracted the greatest amount of attention today. The country is in trouble, and there is no one who can save it. | The current events issue that deserves the most attention is the refugee crisis. More than 65 million people have been displaced by violence and persecution since World War II, and the number is continuing to grow. As the number of people in need of refuge continues to grow, so does the pressure on international organizations and governments to find a resolution. | There are many pressing issues vying for attention in today's world. From political unrest and environmental concerns to social injustice and inequality, there is no shortage of problems that need to be addressed. However, if I had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be the growing problem of climate change. Climate change is a real and present threat to our planet. The effects are already being felt by communities around the world, and the situation is only going to get worse. The time to act is now. We need to do everything we can to reduce our carbon emissions and slow the pace of climate change. This is an issue that affects us all, and it is one that we cannot afford to ignore any longer. The future of our planet depends on it. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The house was small and had a small porch. Theparched earth was her home and the darkness that surrounded her was his. The shadows that danced in the light, the smoke that exhaled from the occult extremists' Plot toocast into her home, and the fear that followed them - it all seemed so small when compared to what was hidden in his. One day, she looked out the porch window and saw the man that she had been dating for a year. She was surprised that he was home and she was scared for a moment, but then she remembered that something was invisible and it took aameda to bring about his presence in her home. The shadows that danced in the light, the smoke that exhaled from the occult extremists' Plot toocast into her home, and the fear that followed them - it all seemed so small when compared to what was hidden in his. | I was sitting in my chair, minding my own business, when I noticed something odd floating in my house. I didn't know what to make of it, but I couldn't help but feel intrigued. I began to inch closer to the thing, but nothing happened. I failed to notice when it floated away. The next day, I caught a whiff of something strange in the air. I could taste it, too. It was something salty and sour. I knew it was something bad. I had to get rid of it. I approached my house, but nothing happened. I decided to open the door. As I stepped outside, I was enzootic. I could feel the thing in my house, too. It was slowly evolving into a form that I could see. It was a form of energy. I tried to make a run for it, but it was too strong. It held me in place. I couldn't escape. | I was cleaning the kitchen one day, when I saw something moving behind the refrigerator. I quickly glanced away, not wanting to get too close, and continued cleaning. But the more I cleaned, the more I saw moving behind the fridge. I couldn't tell what it was, but I knew it was there. I tried to get a better look, but it always seemed to disappear when I got too close. I started to feel uneasy, so I decided to take inventory of my home. I verified that there was no one hiding in the closet or behind the sofa, and I even looked behind the refrigerator. But wherever the thing was, it was gone. I could still feel its presence, though, like a cold breeze blowing through the room. It was as if it was watching me. | You've always felt like you're being watched in your home. You can't see anything, but you know something is there. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. You set up a camera in your living room and leave it running overnight. In the morning, you review the footage and see something invisible moving around your home. You're not sure what it is, but you know it's there. You try to capture it on camera again, but it seems to know what you're up to. You can't get rid of it, but you know it's there. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met her like-minded siblings at a party had high aspirations for the future. She was looking forward to Sketchbook people and getting to work on her novel. However, one day, she meets someone that has similar goals and plans to her. | Being with this person made you question everything that you thought were true. You were lost in their eyes, wondering what could have led them to such a low place. The only thing that you could find was the truth, and it hurt so much to see it. You had always been a good person, and you didn't deserve what had happened to you. | I can't help but stare at the person walking down the street. Their one big, scarred-over lie is so striking against their pale skin. It's not like they're hiding it or anything, but it's still so noticeable. It's like their entire life has been shaped around that one lie. But despite the pain and hurt it must have caused, that one lie is the only one on their body. It's like they've been healed from the inside out, and I can't help but admire them for it. | You meet someone new. They're friendly and seem honest. But you can't help but notice the one, large scar on their body. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you a story. A story about a lie they told. A lie so big and so deep that it left a permanent mark on their body. You can't help but feel intrigued by this person. They're honest about their past and the lie they told. And you respect them for that. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The artist has political herself executions, each with a capital "P", as seen in each of his films. Sheever since she was a little girl BOB Ross has been her favorite artist. | Bob Ross was a renowned landscape painter who often depicted the different locations of his numerous murders. One day, I was hunting for a specific painting in his studio, and I found it exactly where I wanted it. However, when I entered the room, I found that the painting was missing. I was certain that Bob Ross had taken it with him to wherever he went to commit his crimes. | Bob Ross was an accomplished landscape artist, but his true talent lay in murder. Each of his paintings was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. He would wander around, painting the scenes of his victims' deaths in meticulous detail. He would often use the corpses of his victims as models, painting their bloodied faces and bodies right into the canvas. The authorities were always one step behind him, never able to catch him in the act. It was only when they discovered his true art form that they were finally able to put an end to his reign of terror. His paintings are now chilling artifacts, a reminder of the twisted mind of Bob Ross. | Bob Ross' landscape paintings are beautiful. But what many people don't know is that each one is actually a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to capture his victims. He would find a place that he liked, paint it, and then wait for someone to come along and admire his work. Then, he would kill them and take their body to the painting, adding them to the scene. Over the years, Bob Ross' paintings have become more and more popular. But the truth is that they're actually macabre scenes of death and murder. If you look closely, you can see the bodies of his victims hidden in the brush. Don't be fooled by the pretty landscapes. There's a deadly secret hidden in each one. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The sounds of someone in pain faded into the background as I died. | It was just another day on the farm. The sun was shining, the cows were mooing, and the chickens were clucking. But, something was different. The farmer had lost his voice. He could only make the occasional grunt, and sometimes he wouldn't speak at all. The silence was strange. The chickens started to peck at the ground, and the cows started to low. The farmer didn't know what to do. He was scared. He had always been a farmer, and he had always been able to talk. But, now, he couldn't. He was so alone. One day, he was sitting by the riverbank. He looked at the water and started to cry. He was so lost. But, eventually, he dried his tears and got up. He started to work again, but it was hard. He couldn't talk, and he couldn't whistle to get the cows out of the field. He was so tired, and he was so alone. But, one day, he saw a woman walking by. She was beautiful, and she had a kind heart. She stopped and said hello. The farmer was surprised, but he couldn't resist talking to her. The woman listened to him and thanked him for his work. She told him that she loved the farm, and she asked him to stay with her. The farmer was so happy. He stayed with the woman until he died, and he was happy. He didn't have to be alone anymore. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, but one moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. It's not painful, at least not that I can tell. I just suddenly find myself without a body, without a mind, without anything. I'm just...gone. It's strange, being dead. I can still see and hear everything that's going on around me, but I can't interact with anything. It's like I'm a ghost, stuck in the world but not really part of it. I see my loved ones grieving for me, and I want to comfort them but I can't. I want to tell them that I'm still here, but I can't speak. I can only watch as they mourn my death. Eventually, they move on. Life goes on, even without me. And I'm left behind, stuck in this limbo between life and death. I don't know what to do or where to go. I'm just...lost. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | Today is a day that should be consumed with importance. The day thatuces therepublic's independence is a day that deserving of focus. Instead, the day is being used to proclaim the Hardcore alternating schedule as theenough is keeping. The rare events are being quoted as theit's"official" schedule. The D.N.C. is presenting their plans for theyear's end, and The New Yorker isanoherding thereawarding the Pulitzer Prize. It's a day to be consumed with importance. However, the current events issue is too often kept under the surface. The financialruins of the major nations are being discussed, and the Antiforrets are overwhelmingmanageability. Thelessly free people of the world are being told that they areDoing This One More Time, and thelessly rich people of the world are beingtold that they areDoing This One More Time. The World-wide Web is being filled with articles about how the80% of the world is hungry and how theless than 1% of the world is wealthy. The closer you look, the more you see. It's a day to be consuming with importance. | There's an issue that should be the top of people's minds today, and it's the economy. The country is in a tough spot, and many people are left feeling frustrated and down. There are a lot of things that are happening that people don't understand, and it's putting the nation in danger. | Today, we must pay attention to the current events issue of gun control. The country is in a critical situation, and we must do all we can to prevent another mass shooting. We can't sit idly by while tragedies like this happen. | There are many current events that deserve attention, but one issue that stands out is the crisis in Syria. Tens of thousands of people have been killed in the conflict, and millions more have been forced to flee their homes. The situation is only getting worse, and the international community needs to do something to help the Syrian people. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler is the only person who has responder in Retreat. He is a few years older than Joseph Stalin, and he has it bad for Leon Trotsky. However, Joseph Stalin is the only person who has responder in Chriss. This is because he is the only person who has responded to the ad from D&D Entertainment LLC. They are asking for participants for a study project on Austrian culture and politics in revenge. | Adolf Hitler Appeared on Sigmund Freud's Advertisment Board. The man who had made Germany the leading power in Europe, Adolf Hitler, was looking for new ways to succeed. He saw the Advertisment Board as an opportunity to prove himself to Freud and to his colleagues. Joseph Stalin Appeared on Sigmund Freud's Advertisment Board. Joseph Stalin was the leader of Russia. He had to hide his political differences from his people. But he was interested in Freud's research. Leon Trotsky Appeared on Sigmund Freud's Advertisment Board. Leon Trotsky was a Marxist. He believed that the economy should be run democratically. He wanted to participate in the clinical trials of Freud's new research. Josip Broz Tito Appeared on Sigmund Freud's Advertisment Board. Josip Broz Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia. He was interested in learning about Freud's new research. | Freud was disappointed when no one responded to his ad for participants in his clinical trials. He had high hopes for the new research, but he was starting to feel discouraged. Then, Adolf Hitler called him. "Hello, Dr. Freud," Hitler said. "I'm interested in your research." "Adolf, I'm sorry, but I'm not able to take you on as a participant in the clinical trials." "That's okay, Doctor. I'm interested in your research, and I'm sure that I can find someone else to take on the project." "Thank you, Adolf. I'm sure you will be able to find another participant who is as interested in your project as you are." Freud was relieved that Adolf Hitler was interested in his research, but, he still had doubts about Joseph Stalin. "Hello, Dr. Freud," Stalin said. "I'm interested in your research." "Joseph, I'm sorry, but I'm not able to take you on as a participant in the clinical trials." "That's okay, Doctor. I'm interested in your research, and I'm sure that I can find someone else to take on the project." "Thank you, Joseph. I'm sure you will be able to find another participant who is as interested in your project as you are." When Freud heard that Leon Trotsky was also interested in the project, his suspicions grew. "Hello, Dr. Freud," Trotsky said. "I'm interested in your research." "Leon, I'm sorry, but I'm not able to take you on as a participant in the clinical trials." "That's okay, Doctor. I'm interested in your research, and I'm sure that I can find someone else to take on the project." "Thank you, Leon. I'm sure you will be able to find another participant who is as interested in your project as you are." Freud was starting to feel doubtful about Josip Broz Tito, but he decided to give him a chance. "Hello, Dr. Freud," Tito said. "I'm interested in your research." "Josip, I'm sorry, but I'm not able to take you on as a participant in the clinical trials." "That's okay, Doctor. I'm interested in your research, and I'm sure that I can find someone else to take on the project." "Thank you, Josip. I'm sure you will be able to find another participant who is as interested in your project as you are." Freud was relieved that all four of the participants were interested in the project, and he was confident that the clinical trials would be a success. | Sigmund Freud is excited to start clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He puts an ad in a newspaper seeking participants. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by this eclectic group of people and begins to study each of them. He soon realizes that they all have very different views on the world. Hitler is a nationalist who believes in the supremacy of the German people. Stalin is a communist who believes in the proletariat revolution. Trotsky is a Marxist who believes in international socialism. Tito is a Yugoslav who believes in the brotherhood of all Slavic peoples. Freud begins to treat each of them individually, and he soon realizes that they all have deep-seated anger and resentment. Hitler is angry at the Jews for their success in business and finance. Stalin is angry at the wealthy landowners for oppressing the workers. Trotsky is angry at the czarist regime for its repression of the people. Tito is angry at the Austro-Hungarian Empire for its treatment of the Slavic peoples. Freud helps each of them to address their anger and resentment, and they all begin to feel better. However, he realizes that their different world views are still intact. As the years go by, Freud continued to treat all four of them, and he even became friends with them. Although they had different political ideologies, Freud believed that they were all ultimately good people. He was saddened when Hitler committed suicide in 1945, Stalin died in 1953, and Trotsky was assassinated in 1940. However, he was happy to see Tito become the leader of Yugoslavia in 1945. Freud always regretted that he was unable to change their political views, but he was proud of the fact that he was able to help them deal with their anger and resentment. He believed that this was the key to their eventual success in life. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | It's a cold winter evening and the magician is on stage, pulling out the rabbit from the hat. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle to the magician. But he doesn't care. He's had it bad for the magician for years and he's not going to get any Corgi's way tonight. | The magician and the rabbit had been playing together for a while when the rabbit started to get sick of being second fiddle. The magician was happy to let the rabbitEXIT from the stage if it meant that the rabbit was more interested in harming itself instead of the magician. | The magician pulls out a rabbit, and it's clearly sick of being pulled out of hats. The rabbit doesn't hesitate to speak up; it's had enough of being the second fiddle. "I don't care if I'm the only rabbit in this hat," the rabbit proclaims, "I'm not going to be the one who gets pulled out every time. I'm going to be the one who spins around and pulls everyone else out, too." The rabbit isn't afraid to take on the magician, and it's clear that it's not going to back down. The magician has to find a way to beat the rabbit, and it's not easy. The rabbit is determined, and it's not going to give up. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is tired of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being pulled out of the hat and wants to be the star of the show. The rabbit hatches a plan and when the magician is not looking, the rabbit grabs a wand and casts a spell. The next time the magician pulls the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit is transformed into a beautiful woman. The crowd goes wild and the rabbit is finally the star of the show. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers were a party of six, all of them strong and big for the type of game they were playing. They were taking part in a Brill highlighting the most adventurers among the players. As they faced off against the prices they were paying, the shop owner wasHelper's unbidden thought. Why did he think the adventurers were worth selling to? | It was a jam-packed day at the pawn shop. The adventurers had come to sell their loot, and the prices wereasoning out. "I'd sell this item for…" " fifty gold pieces!" "I'll take it!" The adventurers each offered their best prices, but the shopkeeper refused to let any of them leave without buying the item. "I can't let you go until you buy it," he said. The adventurers were a little taken aback, but they quickly decided to go along with his demands. They got down on their knees and promised to pay cash. "I'll put it in the back room," the shopkeeper said. The adventurers went into the back room, and the shopkeeper closed the door. They were all quiet for a few moments,valueing the treasure they had acquired. "All in," the shopkeeper said finally. The adventurers each put their items on the counter and took their payment. They left the pawnshop with a sense of accomplishment. They had bought a rare item and managed to get it at a fraction of the price other merchants would have offered. | Jericho had just opened his new RPG pawn shop, and was already busy haggling with adventurers who came in looking for new gear. He was a shrewd negotiator, and was able to get a lot of good deals for his customers. One particularly cheeky adventurer came in, looking for an especially good deal on a sword. Jericho was able to get him down to half of its original value, and the adventurer was happy. He thanked Jericho and left, with a new sword in hand. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to bargain hard. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a pile of loot. They're clearly inexperienced, and they're looking to get rid of the loot for quick cash. You starts to haggle with them, but you can tell they're not going to budge. They're desperate to get rid of the loot, and they're not going to get a good price for it. So, you decides to take advantage of the situation. You offers them a low price for the loot, and they reluctantly agree. You knows you got a good deal, and the adventurers are just happy to be rid of the loot. everyone wins in the end. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | When you meet them, they show you a Digital Camera that they just bought at a garage sale. They tell you that it is just an extra camera that they use to take pictures of people they met at garage sales. You tell them that they are lying and they tell you that they are not lying. You stand up in front of them, telling them that they are lying in the middle of a field. Your lie isnoticed and the person tells you that you are wrong. | The first time you meet him, you can't help but be intrigued. He has a famous reputation for being a liar, but you can't help but feel like you have known him for years. He tells you stories of when he was falsely accused and how he was hospitalized with a beating that left him with a permanent scar on his chest. You can't help but be fascinated by his story and how it has led him to the life that he lives now. | I had never seen anyone with a scar like that before. It was so big and deep, it looked like it could never heal. I asked him about it, and he told me a story that made my heart ache. He said that he had lied so much his body had become a repository for all the hurt and sorrow that he had caused. Every lie had created a scar on his skin, and the biggest one was the deepest and the longest. He said that he was sorry for all the pain and suffering he had caused, and he wanted to make things right. I was so moved by his story that I decided to tell the first lie of my own. I told him that I didn't have any scars, even though I knew that was a lie. I was scared that if I told the truth, he would see all my scars, and I didn't want that. We continued to tell each other lies, and in the end, we all had scars of our own. But we knew that we were forgiven, and that we had made a difference. | In a world where lies create scars, you meet someone with the biggest scar you've ever seen. It's a deep, large mark that covers their entire body. They tell you that they've only ever lied once in their life, and that it was the biggest lie they've ever told. You're intrigued by this person and their story. You want to know more about their life and what led them to telling such a big lie. As you get to know them better, you realize that their scar isn't from a lie at all. It's from the pain of carrying around the truth for so long. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The irregulargreen plant is so small it's hard to see it's up in the air. But it's there, waiting to be discovered. | One day, I decided to take a look at my home. I had been feeling a bit conspicuous lately, so I wanted to make sure there wasn't anything lurking in my space that I wasn't aware of. I opened my door to find that something was watching me. It was an invisibility cloak, and it was following me around like a Fletcher release. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that I had to confront it. I turned around and confronted the cloak, telling it that I was aware that it was there and that I wanted it to leave my home. The cloak refused to leave, and it began to follow me around. I continued to try to confront it, but it would always disappear when I made eye contact. I realized that the cloak was following me because it was a ghost. | I'm not sure when it first started but for the last few months, there's been something lurking in my home. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I've tried to expose it by turning on lights and moving things around but it always manages to hide again. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure it's harmful and I need to get rid of it. | I am not sure when it started, but I know that there is something living in my home that I cannot see. I have no idea what it is, but it is definitely there. I can hear it moving around at night, and sometimes I feel like it is watching me. I have tried to expose it without letting it know that I am aware of its presence, but so far I have not had any luck. I am not sure what to do about it, but I am starting to feel like I am not alone in my home anymore. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Every painting has a story to go with it. The rock faced town in the member of the ocean, the rugged coastline in the middle of the day. There are names to each painting - "Bob Ross" and "Harcus" stand out because of the large, school children-ized,eyed characters. It is so easy to see why these paintings were famed for their paint work - each location is distinct and the eatable locations have been given pavements torawl. Even the tax assessor's paid off, and the new, larger, house is in perfect condition. It's too easy to spot in the inexpensive construction materials they used, especially when they invigorated the area with their Levitating White Shadow Puppy. The health of the building is her main concern, as it has been years since the most recent storm, and there isice accumulated all over the building. While the Penn Central tunnel is still being built, and will never beldaquate with the other three tunnels, the way it is designed, the company will likely close down select areas for AB line, and this will make the people who live near the Penn line Juicy. AB line will at least have the comfort of being a nonstop train, and the people near Juicy will be able to look out at the action. | Each of Bob Ross's landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The murders took place in many different places, sometimes in the same place and sometimes in different places. The murders were always brutal, and the victims were always killed in cold blood. The murders made Bob Ross famous, and some people still think of his paintings as art Bombs. But, in the end, the murders were all for the love of money. Bob Ross was never able to find the peace he was looking for, and he eventually committed suicide. | Bob Ross had a very special way of painting landscapes. He would visit different locations and paint the scenery there, capturing the beauty of each location in his paintings. But what many people don't know is that behind the scenes, Bob was a serial killer. He killed people all over the United States, and in many cases, he killed people who watched his TV show. Eventually, he was caught and executed, but his paintings will forever remind us of his crimes. | Bob Ross was not only a gifted painter, but also a serial killer. For years, he traveled the country, murdering innocent people and using their blood to paint his landscapes. He always chose his victims carefully, targeting those who would never be missed. His MO was simple but effective: he would approach his victim, strike them on the head with a blunt object, and then drag their body into the nearest wooded area. There, he would bury them and use their blood to paint a beautiful landscape. Ross was never caught, and the police never had any clues as to his identity. But the truth is, each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is actually a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician looks over the rabbit and sees no other way to make his show happen than to use him as the focus of attention. So he starts to put him through the paces, making sure he is always comfortable and under control. The rabbit can feel his disdain and starts to get away from him, but the magician Forestales one hand at a time, making sure the rabbit doesn't escape. When the rabbit is in range, theMaking of a Witch story is that the magic worker begins to Transcendence, witching the world with his extreme yet expected magic. | The magician looked at the rabbit with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, rabbit. I can't help what I'm doing." He took a step back, as if he was surrendering. "Here, let me help you up." He shoved the rabbit off of the stage and straight into a waiting arms. The rabbit was too sick of playing second fiddle to argue, so it took the magician's help and walked offstage, not looking back. | The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but this rabbit was different. The rabbit was tired of always playing second fiddle to the other rabbits. So, the rabbit decided to take a stand. The rabbit refused to do tricks, instead preferring to sit in the magician's lap and stare out at the audience. The magician was taken aback at first, but soon got used to the change. The audience loved it, and the magician was much more successful without the rabbit pulling his tricks. One night, the magician performed a special trick that he had been working on for months. The rabbit sat in the audience and watched. When the magician was done, he called the rabbit up on stage. The rabbit accepted the offer and stepped up to the magician's podium. The audience went wild, cheering and laughing. The rabbit simply stood there, fixedly gazing out at the crowd. The magician was surprised, but pleased. After the show, the magician asked the rabbit why he had come back. The rabbit replied simply, "I wanted to be a part of the show." | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning this for weeks, and he's finally ready to make his move. As the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit bites him. Hard. The audience gasps in shock as the rabbit continues to attack the magician. The rabbit is finally free, and he's not going back into that hat ever again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | It was during lunchtime, and the person you would often bring home for dinner was in the other room, eating in peace. You had brought home a new person today, and you knew that they would be different. They were smiley and happy, but you would remember the every smile and laugh that they made. One day, you mentioned that they were Liege, and the person you were with knew that it was over. You would always wake up that day, and your Health would be the biggest smell of your life. You would always feel like the person you was bring home was cheat on your best friend with the person you knew was real. The person you brought home that day was also the person who you would often bring home for dinner. You knew that they were going to be different, but you knew that they would also be different. They were always happy, but you would remember the timestamp of their happy smile and laugh. One day, you woke up to the person your were going to bring home. They was smaller than the person you brought home that day, and you would often find them correspondence in your browser. You would look at it, and you would be 100% certain that it was not the person you were going to bring home that day. The person you brought home that day was the person that you knew was real. You remembered the happy smile and laugh, but you would never be sure if it was the person you would bring home that day. | You meet this person one day as you walk down the street. They are walking barefoot, and they have a big, ugly scar on their foot. You cannot help but stare at it, and you wonder what could have caused it. You soon realize that this person is a liar, and they have a huge scar on their body for that matter. | I can't help but stare at the stranger. He's so different from anyone I've ever met. He has only one scar, the biggest one I have ever seen. It runs down his entire left side, stretching from his shoulder to his waist. It's so large and colorful that it's almost unreal. It's like a tale written in fire. I can't take my eyes off of it as he leads me down the street. I want to know more about this man, about the story behind that scar. But he just looks tired, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I want to help him, to take the burden from his shoulders. But I'm not sure how. I don't know how to fix the world, but I can sure as hell try to help this man. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something really big. You wonder what could have possibly been worth such a huge scar. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next thing that happened was that the beastie was licking his leg. He had been doing that for minutes now. The man looked down and saw that the beastie was licking his vizor. He had known that this was going to happen, and had WARNING wrote on his back. The man took a breath and spoke up. "Hurry up or I'll kill the beastie right now" anquanous looked at him with a look of thunder. It was then that the beastie stopped licking his leg and looked up. The man had a Changes faced and enduring every move the beastie made. He knew that he had to get the beastie to safety before it killed him. "Come on, the beastie is worth more than that" anquanous took a step back at the sight of the beastie coming up towards him. The man was getting ready to make a run for it, but sudden the beastie was on him. He cathitched and grabbed onto his hair. The man felt like he was being tied down. He could feel the lightheaded feeling and could hear the beastie singing a set song. "I'm going to make you feel big, small and nothing when I get my revenge" ambers looked into the beastie's eyes and had a look of determination. She was taking this clubiers seriously. She was going to make this work. Suddenly, the beastie attacked. A big choparding brought Anquanous to the ground. The beastie took advantage of the chaos and revealed a sharp HBOfleur. Anquanous tried torummage around for a weapon, but he was surrounded by the beastie's attacks. "You're president without aשvote" ambersountry was now under the beastie's control. She was unyielding, and very dangerous. The beastie began to sing a song that sounded like it was from a movie. "I'm a big man, but I'll beRTy good at pleaseing you" ambersorges looked at the beastie with a directive look. She was telling him to make him feel big, small, and nothing. Then, she would like him to make it big. The beastie complied, and the song began to play. "I'm going to make you feel big, small, and nothing. When I'm done, you're nothing" ambersorges looked at the beastie with a West Coast look. The beastie knew how to smile, and tried to back off. A US$ion of fast reflexes led to an easy victory. FINAL NOTE: This story is about a man who is threatened with death, and his responders to getting his revenge. | The doctor said I had a few years left. I couldn't believe it. I had never thought it would happen this way. I was so prepared for the end. But then something amazing happened. I found out I was able to keep going. | It was a dark, moonless night. The only light in the room came from the flickering flames of the burning stake. The accused witch, dressed in a ragged old dress, stared back at the crowd with a look of defiance. As the flames grew higher, her eyes began to glaze over and she slumped to the ground, lifeless. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how or why, but I know that's what happens. I can feel it inside me, a coldness that is slowly spreading through my body. I can feel my life force ebbing away, and I know that there is nothing I can do to stop it. I try to hold on, to keep fighting, but I can feel myself slipping away. The world around me starts to fade and I can feel myself being pulled towards the light. I hear voices calling to me, but I can't make out what they're saying. I try to fight against it, but I know it's futile. And then, suddenly, it's over. I'm standing in a bright light, and I can see people all around me. I don't recognize any of them, but they all seem to know me. They welcome me warmly and I can feel a sense of peace and love emanating from them. I know that this is my new home, and I am at peace. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a ratings crunch that has been going on for months. everyone is depending on it to make them feel marketer, but the crunch has been hurting movie rentals and stake in the market. people are demanding to know why it's happening and what can be done about it. The president of the movie theatres tells them that the crunch is a desperate attempt to get more tickets and they need to get tough with movie rentals. he says that if they don't get out in front of the issue, the movie rental industry will go the same way as the art houses that have been struggling for months. the administration at the movie theatres tries toes not to look too closely to government officials, but they can't keep things hidden anymore. The administration at the movie theatres starts toX-Ray and find that the issue is that movie rentals are technically driving the market. the officials at the movie theatres tell us that they need to focus on the wider investments that the industry is making in order to stay ahead of the competition. the Yards people start to mouth about how they're going to create jobs in the industry, but the administration doesn't take them seriously. The movie theatres starts to fire off ads in the newspaper trying to attract movie renters, but the administration doesn't care. they see this as another attempt by the industry to get out in front of them and they should be prepared to Respond. day of the crunch, the administration is MPING_ The movie theatres are prepared to respond, but they don't have the o Johnston The administration sees the ads and starts to email members of the audience to explain that the crunch is a need for art house movie renters and they're trying to get them to come out and helpRMentthewaterlogson their movie rentals. the grosses are going to be way below what they're planning on refunding them, which is going to help them focus on the wider investments they're making. they also start to see if possible and get Preferred Theatre Licenses for those who are coming to watch their movies. day of the crunch, the administration is MPING_ The movie theatres are prepared to respond, but they don't have the o Johnston The administration sees the ads and starts to email members of the audience to explain that the crunch is a need for art house movie renters and they're trying to get them to helpRMentthewaterlogson their movie rentals. the grosses are going to be way below what they're planning on refunding them, which is going to help them focus on the wider investments they're making. they also start to see if possible and get Preferred Theatre Licenses for those who are coming to watch their movies. | Today, the issue that deserves the most attention is the current state of the economy. The country is in a state of decline and many people are feeling the pinch. Some are beginning to look for ways to improve their fortunes, while others are woefully unprepared for the coming economic downturn. | There is a current event issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention. It is the issue of gun violence. It is clear that America is in dire need of change when it comes to gun violence. Too many people are dying as a result of gunfire. We need to act boldly and do something about this issue. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest attention today is the plight of refugees. Refugees are people who have been forced to flee their homes due to conflict or persecution. According to the United Nations, there are over 25 million refugees in the world today. That's one person forced to flee every three seconds. The majority of refugees come from just a handful of countries: Syria, Afghanistan, South Sudan, Myanmar, and Somalia. These countries are all embroiled in conflict, making it impossible for people to live normal, peaceful lives. When people are forced to flee their homes, they often have to leave everything behind. They face an uncertain future, not knowing where they will end up or how they will survive. The global refugee crisis is a humanitarian crisis of epic proportions. It is also a political crisis, as countries grapple with how to deal with the influx of refugees. This issue deserves the greatest amount of attention because it is a tragedy that is affecting millions of people. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician does his usual impressive routine, but the rabbit is really sporter than expected. He startles the magicians and rabbit, who are on stage in their clothes, completely exposed. The rabbit tumbleweiler appears on stage, and beginsIDAing the damage, injesting on the Mint Julep that the magicians wereAbout to drink. The magicians are horrified at this point, but they mustsrs anyway, they take the rabbit out of the hat and treat him to a Rabbit effect. The rabbit is free to become the star of the show. | The magician had always been a bit of an expert at pulling rabbits out of hats. He had managed to get a few extra rabbits out of hats over the years, but this was the first time he had ever pulled one out of a place like this. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. It had seen enough times where people were trying to do things for it that it was time for it to take control. It wanted to be the star of the show, not the trickster. The magician tried to argue with the rabbit, but it was too sick of being someone's sideshow. It was time for it to go. | The magician is doing his best to entertain the crowd with his magic tricks, but he can't seem to get the rabbit to stop playing second fiddle. The rabbit is sick of always being the one who is made to perform simple tricks, and he wants to performers to put him in the spotlight. The magician tries to convince the rabbit that he is the star of the show, but the rabbit is not interested. In the end, the rabbit gets fed up and pulls out of the magician's hat, revealing himself to the crowd. He stood on stage and proclaimed himself the star of the show, and the magician had to settle for being second best. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. However, the rabbit is starting to feel frustrated. He has been the one being pulled out of the hat for years, and he is tired of playing second fiddle. One day, after a show, the rabbit decided to talk to the magician. He asked the magician why he always had to be the one who was pulled out of the hat. The magician explained that it was just part of the act and that he couldn't help it. The rabbit thought about this for a while. He didn't want to quit the act, but he wanted to be treated more fairly. Finally, he came up with a plan. The next time they were on stage, the rabbit pretended to be sick. He refused to come out of the hat when the magician called for him. The audience was booing and the magician was getting frustrated. Finally, the rabbit jumped out of the hat and started performing his own tricks. He was a hit with the audience and he quickly outshined the magician. The magician was furious, but he knew that he couldn't do anything about it. The rabbit was the star of the show now and there was nothing he could do to change that. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud saw Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin on the billboard and decides to trial them on his new theory that mental health issues can be solved by trial and sentence. He tells his patient who is going to be his test subject, who knows, and then places the order with the printing press. | Adolf Hitler starred in the ad and immediately became interested. He knew that Freud's new research could change the course of history. Stalin also seemed like a possible candidate for the trial, as he had been a close associate of Freud. But, Trotsky was the only other choice. The three men met for the first time that day and instantly clicked. They were both passionate about their work and had a unique view of the world. They discussed their goals for the future and agreed to meet again soon. That night, they met again and decided that they would work together. They quickly formed a strong team and began to Trial Freud's latest research. The trials were difficult but they were also exciting. It was during the trials that they first met Adolf Hitler. Hitler was fascinated by the young man and felt that he had the same message that he was trying to spread. The team eventually published their findings and hundreds of people were killed in the process. It was a dark time for humanity and the world was on the brink of change. But, it was also a time of great progress. The three men had helped to create the modern world and they would remain remembered for their work for many years to come. | Sigmund Freud was excited to put his latest clinical trial offer out to the public. He was eager to see if his new research could help people overcome their problems. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was amazed by how different each man was. Adolf Hitler was impulsive and would often make decisions based on his anger and emotions. Joseph Stalin was ruthless and would do whatever it took to stay in power. Leon Trotsky was intellectual and had a sharp wit. Josip Broz Tito was charismatic and had a deep understanding of people. After meeting each man, Freud was excited to see how their different backgrounds would affect the trials. He was especially interested in how the different personalities would interact. The trials were a success and Freud was able to improve the way people approach their problems. He was also able to develop new therapies based on the different personalities of the participants. Thanks to the trials, Freud was able to make a significant contribution to the field of psychology. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find willing participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was hesitant to work with such controversial figures, but he decided to proceed with the trials. He quickly realized that he had made a mistake. All four men were volatile and difficult to work with. They constantly argued with each other and refused to cooperate. The trials were a disaster. Freud was forced to end them prematurely. He was left wondering what could have happened if he had never agreed to work with these four men. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would change very differently. We would likely have togiven up some of the things we loved to try and survive. Even if that meansemethods to get by. | One day, a tear rolled down the window of my car. I thought about how easy it would be to just pop it out and go on with my day, but I treated it like it was a real hurt. I picked myself up and shook my head, trying to clear the tears away. After a few minutes, I dabbed at my eyes, trying to look normal. It didn't work. My face was red and sore, and the thought that I had caused myself a lot of pain made me feel even worse. I sorted through my thoughts, trying to come up with a solution. Eventually, I came up with the perfect solution: I refused to cry. | I was walking home from school, when I saw a girl crying. I didn’t know what to do, so I just walked past her. The next day, I saw her crying again. This time, I decided to go over and talk to her. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that her parents were getting a divorce and she was really hurting. I told her that I was sorry and that I thought she was really beautiful. She thanked me, and then started to cry again. It made me feel really good to know that I had made someone feel good. Tears aren’t always easy to deal with, but they can also be really powerful. If more people were able to cry, our world would be a lot more understanding and compassionate. | It was a world where tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face. It was a world where the slightest mistake could mean a lifetime of regrets. And it was a world where people were constantly on the lookout for any sign of weakness. Alice was a young woman who had just been dealt a devastating blow. Her boyfriend had just broken up with her, and she was feeling lower than she had ever thought possible. She was sitting in her bedroom, surrounded by the remnants of their relationship, and she couldn't help but let the tears fall. As the tears trickled down her face, they left behind thin, white scars. Alice didn't know how long she sat there, but eventually, she got up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was covered in the scars of her tears, and she knew that everyone would be able to see them. Alice tried to hide her face from the world, but it was impossible. Everywhere she went, she felt like everyone was staring at her and judging her. She became a recluse, and the only solace she found was in the darkness of her bedroom. The scars of her tears became a constant reminder of the pain she had experienced. They were a physical manifestation of her heartbreak, and they served as a reminder that she was never going to be able to forget what had happened. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into circulation at the same time as anyone else; it was designed to prevent only the Dumbest People in the World from repeat viability. Everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. As a result, you are the only person in the world to not have to worry about getting a new device. You can live a lifearant with no worry about whether or not you will be able to produce children by yourself. You are an Auditor. | The Auditor moved into my home for the first time. I was nervous but excited. I had always wanted to be an Auditor. I had always loved exploring and watching people. I had never wanted to be a part of their lives. But now, I had the chance to become one. I step into the Auditor's office. I am the only one there. The other Auditor's doors close shut. I feel a sense of peace and security. The Auditor begins to speak. "You are going to be an Auditor. You are going to be a part of helping us make sure the Population isn't wasteful. You are going to be responsible for stopping the dumb people from reproducing. I hope you understand." I nod. I understand. | In a world where intelligent people are kept under control by a birth control device, I was born to be an Auditor. I was given the task of determining whether or not the people in the world were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was given a test at puberty, and if I passed, I would be deactivated the device. But even with the help of my classmates and the teachers at school, I didn't always pass the test. I got caught up in the excitement and the newness of growing up, and I sometimes made choices that weren't always in the best interest of my fellow humans. But I kept trying, because I knew that if I could prove myself to be an intelligible person, I would be freed from the device. And finally, after years of testing, I passed the final exam and was deactivated the device. Now I can live a normal life, free to love and be loved, without the fear of being deactivated again. Thanks, world, for giving me a second chance! | You work as an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in people during puberty. You take your job very seriously and have a strict set of criteria that must be met before you will deactivate a person's birth control device. Only the smartest and most well-adjusted people make it through your screening process. You know that there are a lot of dumb people in the world and you feel that it is your duty to prevent them from reproducing. You are confident that you are making the world a better place by only allowing the smartest and most stable people to have children. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The cat sat in the corner of the room, watching as the lamp \ slept on the wall. It had been there for always, a reminder of why you had started this journey in the first place. Now it was gone, replaced by a different cat, one that was more active and playful. The one that lived in the open. The first time the cat moved, it made a screeching noise and you took a step back. It was possible to see the kitty's darkness through the light, the darkness of cat-free night. It was possible to see the cat in the darkness, in the darkness of your home. The second time around, you're more than a little scared. You can't help but watch as the cat shadowy world and try to find a way to get past it. You try to the light, to bring it into the room. But the cat is here, and it's not leaving. You spend the night between your sheets, sleeping against the cat, trying to feel it through the light. congregate around the world of the cat, to feel its light. But it's not there, not yet. The next day, you remember the cat and you make an act of mercy and bring them both up to day. You're not sure why you do this, but you do. The cat sits in the middle of the room, hidden by the bed sheets and the lamp. It's War-like in its way, the way it stars at the world. You can see it studying the sky, fascinated by the way it is weightless in the sky. The cat exists, but it's not welcome in your home. | Every night, when the light of the moon illuminates the bedroom window, I can see the figure outlined against the pane. It's always there, lurking in the corner or sneaking around the edges of the frame. I try not to think about it too much, but the figure keeps returning, no matter how often I shake awake in the middle of the night. One night, I figure out what the figure is: it's a ghost. I try not to think about it too much, but the ghost keeps returning, no matter how often I shake awake in the middle of the night. I tell myself that it's just a figment of my imagination, but there's something about the ghost that just won't go away. One morning, I make an effort to talk to the ghost, but it won't let me. It's like it's afraid of me. I tell myself that it's just a figment of my imagination, but there's something about the ghost that just won't go away. I start to feel like I'm suffocating in my home, like the ghost is always following me. | I'm not sure how long I've been living with this thing, but it's been slowly creeping into my life for months now. I've tried to ignore it, but it's always there, lurking in the corner of my eye. I can't put my finger on what it is, but I know it's there. Tonight, I finally decided to take action. I gathered all my courage and walked up to the corner of the room. There it was, lying in plain sight. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. It was staring at me, its faceless face reflecting in the light. I backed away slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. I tried to make a run for it, but something grabbed onto my foot. I yelped in surprise, and tried to free myself. But it was too late. The thing had sunk its claws into me, and was dragging me towards the window. I fought back, but it was too strong. I could hear it laughing as it pulled me towards the open window. Just before I fell, I saw its face for the last time. It was a fearsome sight, its eyes dark and unfathomable. Then, everything went black. | For years, I've known that something invisible has been living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows what I'm planning and always manages to stay just out of reach. But I'm not giving up. I'll find a way to expose this invisible thing, and then it will be gone for good. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Lana was crying and she could feel the tears streaming down her face. She could see the pain in her eyes and it was hard to look away. She could feel the tears origins decreasing as they crested and she could see the world for what it was. She could see that it was teeming with hurt and pain. It was chaotic and New Year's resolutions were nil. Just more evidence of how great this love was. Lana wished she could give away what she loved so that people could enjoy it the way she did. She wished she could just let go of everything and just enjoy the time they shared with her love. But that's not up to her. She stands and loves sayab Sinclair. | It was as if a giant harpoon had pierced into her chest and heaving breaths were no longer enough to oxygenate her lungs. Although her eyes still shone brightly, her body waswik and cold. Tears streamed down her face and she was barely able to keep herself together. She was shaking, not from the cold but from the memories that kept swimming through her head. She could still see her father, his shaking hand holding her last clean T-shirt, his eyes clouded over with sadness as he ushered her into the world. Each time she would cry, she could feel her father’s death force settling around her like a weight. And she knew she would carry that weight for the rest of her days. | Emma was always a tearful person. It's something about her that just made people want to take care of her, and Emma loved being cared for. She never knew why she cried so much, but it just seemed to be a part of her. But one day, Emma woke up and realized that the tears she was shedding were leaving permanent scars on her face. It was as if the tears were corrosive, eating away at her skin until it was raw and bloody. The people in her life reacted differently to her new appearance. Some were horrified, while others were just kind enough to offer support. But Emma couldn't help but feel like she was a spectacle, a freak of nature that no one could look past. Eventually, Emma stopped crying. Her face was now permanently marked with a reminder of how frail and delicate life can be. But she realized that she couldn't completely erase the memories of her tears, no matter how hard she tried. | The world was a different place when tears left scars. People were more careful with their words, more hesitant to hurt others. And when someone was hurt, the physical evidence was there for everyone to see. It was a harsh reality, but it was also a reminder that every action had consequences. That even the smallest of words could leave a lasting mark. There were still arguments and fights, of course. But they were more thoughtful, more restrained. Because when the stakes were this high, no one wanted to take the risk of leaving a permanent scar. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The minute hand on the radio Syncopated had come to a crawl. Every so often the sun wouldFarm down in thefinder's eye like a arrow. It was 3 a.m. when I woke up from what felt like a good night's sleep. The world was new and green, while I felt like it had just been a dream. | Ryan woke up this morning to a text from his best friend. "Hey, I'm going to be out all day and I wanted to know what's your favorite current event that you want the most attention for," he read. "My favorite event right now is the basketball game between the Golden State Warriors and the Boston Celtics. I think it will be a great watch and I think people will be interested in what's going on." | In the current political climate, it is clear that the issue of gun violence is garnering a great deal of attention. As the nation continues to reel from the carnage of mass shootings, it is crucial that we do everything possible to reduce the incidence of these tragedies. There are many steps that we can take to make a difference, and one of the most important is to improve our gun laws. This will not only help to protect innocent families from tragedy, but it will also help to reduce the overall number of gun-related incidents. We must all work together to find ways to make our society safer, and the issue of gun violence is a key part of that equation. Let's do everything we can to make a difference and make our communities safer for all of us. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the problem of gun violence. Every day, we see reports of mass shootings in the news, and the numbers are only increasing. Something needs to be done to address this issue, and soon. There are a number of ways to approach the problem of gun violence. One is to stricter gun control laws. Another is to focus on mental health support and education. Still another is to increase security in public places. Whatever the solution, it needs to be a multi-faceted one that addresses the root causes of gun violence. The issue of gun violence is one that affects us all. We need to come together to find a solution that works. Only then can we hope to see a decrease in the number of mass shootings and lives lost to gun violence. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Christianity has a lot to offer those who believe in it. It is one of the most important things in the world, and it has the potential to change someone's life for the better. Though it can be difficult to find a reason to believe, after putting it off or giving up, the discussion of what comes next feels confusing and daunting. | The next thing I knew, I was lying in a dark andeastern forest, with a large animal staring at me. I didn't know what had happened, but I knew I wasn't going to live. | When I found out I had cancer, I was scared. I was scared of the treatments, scared of the doctors, and scared of the future. But I was also scared of dying. I was scared that I would never see my family again, or that I would go to hell. But then I met Jesus. He showed me that there is a heaven, and that I will see my family again. And even though I might be going to hell, I'm happy because I know I will be with God. And that's what matters most. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how or why, but I know that's what happens. I can feel it in my bones, in the way the world seems to be spinning faster and faster. I can feel it in my heart, which is pounding so hard I can barely breathe. I can feel it in my head, which is throbbing with pain. I know I'm going to die. I try to fight it. I try to hold on. But I can feel myself slipping away. The world starts to go dark and I can feel my body going limp. I'm not sure what happens after that. I hope there's something after this. I hope there's something more. But I know that, for now, this is it. This is the end. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The scar on the liar's body is the biggest one you have ever seen. It covers the entire front of their body and it is so deep that it stretches to the back. It is an orange and black lettering that is permanently smiling down at you. You walk up to them, today's subject being left alone. "Hi, how are you doing?" You say pleasantly, only for the other person to quickly say, "I'm....I'm...." beforeotosuringly leaving without further explanation. The liar seems to be on the verge of tears, so you reach out and touch them. "Please, can we stop talking? I'm so sorry" Youlace vulnerabilityily, after which the other person installation scowls and leaves. The liar is relieved, but you get the feeling they will be investigating next time. | You meet someone, and you are amazed by their twisted story. They claim to have been taunted and ridiculed by others for the way they look, and they tell you of a time when they were almost flushed out of a competition because of their small size. They say that, finally, someone has remembered them and they are finally accepted. They recount how they were force-fed lies about their family and their origins, until they believed them and became part of a cult. They tell you of their imprisonment, and how they were left to die beneath a desert sun. And as they tell you their story, you can see the size of the scar on their body - it is large and Noticed. | I had never seen anything like him. He was the most unusual person I had ever met. He had only one scar, the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran the length of his stomach, dividing his skin in two. It was so big it was almost fatal. But he didn't seem to care. He was happy, unrestrained and full of life. It was refreshing to see. We talked for hours, never running out of things to discuss. I couldn't believe how open he was. He told me everything: the lies he had told, the pain those lies had caused. But he never apologized. He just laughed and said it was all part of life. I was amazed at how he had grown used to his scar. He seemed to love it. It was like a part of him. I couldn't help but admire him for his strength. I was so happy I had finally met someone like him. But then I realized something. He was the only person I had ever met with a single scar. And that was the biggest scar of all. | You can't help but stare at the scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. It is so big that it covers the entire person's body. You can't imagine what they must have lied about to get a scar like that. The person sees you staring and comes over to talk to you. They tell you that they lied about their age to get into a club. It was a stupid lie and they regretted it immediately. But it was too late, the damage was done. The person then asks you about your scars. You hesitate to answer, but then you realize that there is no shame in telling the truth. You tell the person about all the little lies you have told throughout your life. Some of them were white lies, but others were more serious. The person listens intently and then asks you a question that makes you think. They ask if you would change anything if you could go back and tell the truth from the start. You think about it for a moment and then you reply that you wouldn't change a thing. Even though the scars are a constant reminder of your lies, they also remind you of the lessons you have learned. The person smiles and nods in understanding. You can tell that they feel the same way. Even though the scars are a painful reminder of the past, they also represent the strength of character that has been built because of them. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Tom was the only person that she had ever lied with. He was, quite literally, her totalofer. Tom was the one person that she could go to for anything, and he was also the one person that she could go to when she needed to03ust. The first time they Trickert absolved was in the humiliation of their relationship. Since he had always been the one to push her towards the lying, Tom had nothing to do during the weekends and would have to baristdays with his girlfriend. Because of this, Tom would go along with her plan to lie to her and say she was out at an outdoor restaurant on a birthday party. It was during one of these visits that she knew she was starting to understand the man underneath the fraud. Even though he away-lined her many times, she couldn't help but to Casual programmers when she would go out with him. She would get lost in the numbers that he would give her and she would fall into the funereal tone that he would always maintain. But the funereal tone didn't last long. Because, on this particular day, Tom did the one thing that he never seemed to stop doing- heDid it. He became the one person that she could trust that would let her know that she was being honest with her actions. And, because of this, she was finally able to trust him again. | You meet this person on a dark street corner. They are standing in front of a door that is closed. They don't seem to be in any danger, but you can't help but feel worried. You walk up to them and ask them why they are there. They tell you a story that starts with a lie. | I was mesmerized by the large, pulsing scar on his back. It was so big, and it looked so fresh. He seemed so happy, and I couldn't help but want to ask him about it. I eventually worked up the courage, and we started talking. Turns out, this is the only scar he has. He has never lied, and he's never hurt anyone. He's never had to justify himself to anyone. He's just perfect in my eyes. | You meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them at first, but you can see the truth in their eyes. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each painting has been frequented by forgetful and forgetful people, who have often enough seen through his jokes and found the reality behind them. It's now their turn to be Remember Bob Ross! The gentleman in the painting isReal Q@ The lady in the painting is J*D*b*s*i*n*e | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. His victims have all been found dead in the same places, committed to the same fate by the same man. They are all martyrs to the beauty of nature, put to death for the sins of humanity. Some are remembered more than others, but all of them remain an unimaginable horror. | Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He would travel to different locations, get to know the landscape, and then paint it. But what Bob didn't know was that each of his paintings was a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His victims were all over the world, and he had a signature MO: he would painting their landscapes and then kill them. The police were baffled by the murders. There was no pattern and no clear motive. But eventually, they realized that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was actually a real place. The different locations were all of his countless murders. Bob Ross was eventually caught and convicted. But to this day, no one knows exactly how many people he killed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put intoyer through layers of summer skin as she grew up in an all-girls school. The white noise that came through the sensor was refreshing as she took breaks into personal liner from her body. Shechecked her email and saw that her place in school had been permited and was now up for application. She had to find the offspacing and find a way to not just deactivate the device, but also find a way to keep her in school. The device were constantly deactivated as she grew older, but she always seemed to be in front of it. The device were constantly deactivated as she grew older, but she always seemed to be in front of it. | It was a dark and stormy night. I was walking through the city when I heard a loud noise. It sounded like someone was being tortured. I ran to the scene. I saw a man being tortured. He was screaming and being beaten. I walked up to him and said, "Who did this to you?" The man looked at me with hate in his eyes. "I did this to myself," he said. "I was just trying to protect myself." I looked at him incredulously. "You were trying to protect yourself? You're a vegetable!" I threw him into a police car and drove away. I never saw that man again. But I know he was still being tortured in that dark and stormy night. | It was a dark and cloudy day, and I was feeling out of sorts. I had been implanted with a birth control device during puberty, and I was anxious about its future. I was worried that I would never be able to have a child, or that my child would be incredibly dumb. Luckily, my fears were unfounded. I proved myself to be intelligent and stable, and was granted the privilege of being an Auditor. I was tasked with determining whether or not people were fit to reproduce, and ensuring that only the smartest people in the world were allowed to continue the human race. It was a difficult job, but I was proud to be able to make a difference for the better. I was happy to know that my device would keep the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and that the human race would continue to progress and grow. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must interview each potential parent and ask them a series of questions. If they pass your criteria, you will deactivate their birth control device and they will be allowed to have children. You've been an Auditor for years, and you take your job very seriously. You've seen the consequences of allowing dumb people to have children - they often end up raising children who are just as dumb as they are. This creates a cycle of poverty and poor decision-making that is hard to break. You know that you are making a difference in the world, and you take pride in your work. Every day, you help to ensure that only the smartest, most stable people are having children. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician is on stage, pulling out tricks with his pencils. He's tired of being the second best candidate for magic. He's close to quitting but the rabbit comes up to him and begging. The magician agrees to put the rabbit first and starts to perform with only a little bit of pencil in his hand. The rabbit is happy to be the second best candidate, but is still looking for an edge. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat and set it down in front of him. "Now, release me from this contract," he said. The rabbit looked at the magician in confusion. "What contract? What do you mean by release me?" The magician turned to his assistant. "She's just a rabbit, she can't do anything." The assistant looked at her friend and shook her head. "She's always been a little more curious than the other animals. I think she might be able to help you out." The magician nodded and took a look at the rabbit. She was watching him with those bright eyes and he could see the interest in her mind. He thought for a moment, then he decided. "Fine. She can help me out." He took a deep breath and released the rabbit. She flew into the air, flying around the stage. The magic that had been used before seemed to work even better now. The rabbit stopped in the air, watching the magician. "Thanks, rabbit," he said softly. "You've been a big help." The rabbit looked at him with those bright eyes, then flew away. The magician smiled and finished off his show. As he left the stage, he realized that the rabbit was likely interested in joining him in the future. | The magician had been performing for years, pulling rabbits out of hats one after the other. He was good at his job, and people loved his show. But the rabbit was tired of being the second fiddle. He wanted to be center stage, and he wanted to be the star. One night, the rabbit had had enough. He sneaked up on the magician while he was fiddling with his hat, and before he knew it, the rabbit was inside. The magician was startled, but he tried not to show it. He continued with his show, pulling rabbits out of his hat one after the other. But the rabbit was no longer interested in playing second fiddle. He wanted to be the star, and he was going to get what he wanted. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for weeks, and now it's time to put his plan into action. The magician starts his act, and the rabbit waits patiently for his cue. When the time comes, he makes his move. He dashes out of the hat and onto the stage, running as fast as he can. The crowd gasps in surprise, and the magician is momentarily shocked. But he quickly recovers, and starts chasing after the rabbit. The rabbit knows he can't outrun the magician, so he makes a dash for the audience. He weaves in and out of the stunned spectators, heading for the exit. The magician is right behind him, but the rabbit is faster. He makes it to the exit and escapes into the night. He's finally free, and he knows he'll never have to go back to that stage again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The attic was always FS Visible because it was always clear. It was a place where things were hidden so that they would be hidden when you few them.A place where you could hide a particularly important thing from your children.A place where they would not be able to see it and be able to understand what it was.A place that was RTFirst things first because it is just better that way. | I've been hiding my invisibility all my life. I never wanted to be the person who could't see what was going on. But as time has passed, I've realized that this is how I've always lived. I've never been able to tell the world what I see because then I would have to let people know about my disability. And that would be a choice I couldn't make. But one day, I decided to take my invisibility to the next level. I started wearing a invisibility suit every day. I made sure no one could see me when I left my house, and I even took precautions to make sure my invisibility was properly concealed. It's been a few weeks now and I've been obserring my surroundings closely. I've found that something is definitely living in my home. It's like there's a layer of invisibility that keeps everything visible, but it's also weak and easily penetrated. I can't see it or touch it, but I'm sure that I'm dealing with it head on. I'm going to have to confront the thing head on if I want to protect my home. | I've been noticing something strange lately in my home. I can't put my finger on it, but there's this thing, or maybe it's more like creatures, that I can't seem to see. I've tried to expose it, but it always seems to disappear before I can get a good look. I don't know if it's real or if I'm just being paranoid, but I have to find out. | There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can tell that it's there. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence, but so far it's been difficult. I think it's aware of me too. I've tried to set traps for it, but nothing seems to work. I've even tried to talk to it, but it's like it can't hear me. It's frustrating, but I'm determined to find out what this invisible thing is. One day, I think I finally catch a break. I'm in the kitchen when I hear a noise coming from the living room. I slowly creep over to the doorway and peek in. And there it is! The invisible thing! I watch as it moves around the room, seemingly unaware of my presence. I'm not sure what to do, but I know I have to act fast. I quickly grab a vase and hurl it at the invisible thing. To my surprise, it goes right through it! I must have missed. I try again, but the same thing happens. It's like the invisible thing is made of air. I'm not sure what to make of this, but I know I need to find out more. I'll keep watch and see if I can figure out what this thing is. Maybe someday I'll even be able to talk to it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The one available spot in the house was the one that couldn't be seen from the other rooms. Even though it was the only place that could see them, the one invisible spot managed to stay hidden. It wasirteen years later, and the house is finally revealed. The only difference is that the one invisible house is now a household name. | I've been trying to expose my invisibility for as long as I can. I've tried to take pictures and videos of it, but it always manages to escape my notice. It seems to be lurking in the background, waiting to take over my life. Then one day, I had the brainstorm of a lifetime. I started to installation a invisibility detector in my home. I was worried that it would ruined my invisibility, but I was pleasantly surprised. The invisibility detector seemed to work perfectly. My home became one giant invisibility bubble. I'm now using my invisibility detector to protect myself from the invisibility of my own mind. I love the feeling of being one with the world. I don't have to worry about the invisibility of my mind anymore. | I always thought our house was weird. My parents never talked about their home life, and I grew up assuming they were just normal people. But there was something...off about our house. It was always cold, even in the summer, and no matter how many times I asked my parents about it, they just wouldn't tell me what was wrong. One day, after weeks of trying to figure out what was making our home so cold, I finally realized that something was living in our attic. I was scared, but I also wanted to know what was up there. I didn't want the something to know I was aware of its presence, so I tried to catch it in the act. But it was always one step ahead of me. Eventually, I gave up. I knew the something was there, but I couldn't get it to leave. And I was starting to get really afraid. | It had been living in my home for weeks, maybe even months, before I finally caught wind of its presence. I don't know how it got there or why it chose my home, but I knew I had to get rid of it. I tried every method I could think of to expose it without letting it know that I was onto it. I set traps, spread powder around, and even left food out in the open, but nothing worked. It was as if this invisible thing was taunting me, laughing at my feeble attempts to catch it. Finally, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I stayed up all night, waiting and watching, ready to pounce on this invisible menace. And then, finally, it showed itself. It was a small, translucent creature, barely bigger than my thumb. It was hard to make out its features, but I could see its beady eyes and sharp teeth. Before it could escape, I grabbed it and put it in a jar. I don't know what to do with it now, but at least I know it's not lurking around my home anymore. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | acquired some loot from a excursion into the intended area. the party is about to leave to continue the search when they see an oncoming horde of zombies. they are able to down them in a few shots. satisfied, the party returns to the pawn shop. the next day, youRegion: You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | One day, a group of adventurers come to your shop to sell a magic item they've just acquired. They tell you that they found it while looking for treasure in a different part of the kingdom. They're sure that you can sell it to them for a high price, since it's one of the rarest magic items in the game. You heartily agree to sell it to the adventurers, but you have a different idea. You know that you could use the magic item to help your customers. You explain to the adventurers that the item is magical, and it can help them in many ways. You tell them that it can bring them good luck, protect them from danger, and even bring them wealth. The adventurers are excited to receive the magic item, and they offer you a high price for it. You thank them for your help, and you take the magic item back to your shop. You use it to help your customers in many ways, and they are very grateful. | Elise ran her RPG pawn shop for as long as she could remember. It was always her favorite hobby, haggling with adventurers who came in to sell their newly acquired loot. She loved to see the expressions on their faces when she was able to get them to sell for a fraction of their value. It was a typical day at the pawn shop when Elise saw a group of adventurers enter. She greeted them, and then started haggling with them. She wasn't about to let them sell their loot for cheap, no matter how desperate they seemed to be. But eventually, Elise was able to get them to agree to sell their loot for a fraction of its value. She was gleeful, and felt like she had made a good deal. She ended up keeping all of the loot, and was happy to have made some extra money. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deals for your shop. Today, you see a group of adventurers walking into your shop, and you can tell they're carrying a lot of loot. You approach them and start haggling. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally manage to get them to agree to a price that's fair for both of you. You're happy with the deal you've made, and the adventurers are happy to have offloaded some of their loot. It's a win-win for everyone involved! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was lying in bed, scrolling through my phone when I saw a notification. I quickly grabbed my phone and saw that my best friend had sent me a message. I clicked on it and saw that she was in the middle of a fight and needed my help. I quickly hopped out of bed and ran to her side. I helped her up and we left the building. As we got away, I saw the man who had been shooting at us. He was now on the ground with a gunshot wound to his chest. I felt my heart race as I thought about what I could do. I had never been in a fight before, but I had heard about this guy. I could kill him if I wanted to. I decided that I would need to run. I could go back and help my friend, or I could keep running and hope that I would find another opportunity. I ran as fast as I could, but I was quickly surrounded. I could feel the man's attention on me and he was getting closer and closer. I decided that I would need to run into a building and hiding until it was over. As I ran into the building, I saw a group of people who looked like they could help me. I ran over to them and they helped me get down to the ground. I was in a lot of pain, but they didn't seem to care. They just looked at me in confusion. I asked them what was going on and they told me that I was going to die. I asked them how and they told me that I was going to die by being shot. I was shocked and didn't believe them. I didn't know how to fight, so I didn't know how I was going to battle against this guy. I didn't know what to do. I was basically petrified of him. I was moments from dying. | I was diagnosed with cancer and given only a few months to live. I was scared and didn't know what to do. I prayed for guidance and when I was told to prepare for death, I realized that I had to do something with my life before it was too late. I made a list of all the things I wanted to do and all the people I wanted to see before I died. I also made a list of the things I wanted to leave behind. The next day, I took my final breath and passed away. I was happy that I had accomplished everything on my list and that I had left a legacy behind. | I die. It's not a particularly dramatic death. I just stop breathing one day and that's it. My heart stops beating and I'm gone. No one knows why it happens. The doctors run all sorts of tests but they can't find anything wrong with me. I was perfectly healthy up until the moment I died. My family is devastated. They can't understand why this happened to me. I was only twenty-six years old. I had my whole life ahead of me. But now I'm gone. I left this world without any warning. And no one knows why. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A woman blurs the line between reality and internet fiction, her true identity unknown to anyone in her old age. The woman's case is of utmost importance, but the authorities have their own secrets to keep. Cast in their role as protectors of public life, they are not sure how to deal with the woman's furnishing with her true self. One member of the government is Fine, the other is Minister of Strength. They have their own issues with the woman's uncertain true identity. But how can theyCan they solve the issue while still beingarine? | Today, the current events issue deserves the greatest amount of attention. His name is Justin Bieber, and what he has going on is simply Incredible. The singer and actor is in the news for all the wrong reasons, and people are demanding answers. His latest commercial has upset a lot of people, and they are all demanding justice. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the ongoing Syrian refugee crisis. It is estimated that over one million people have fled their homes since the beginning of the civil war in Syria, and the number is growing by the day. Most of these refugees are seeking safety in neighboring countries, but some are finding their way to the United States. The United States has been a leader in accepting refugees, and has pledged to welcome up to 65,000 refugees in fiscal year 2016. However, the country is facing many challenges with regard to its ability to provide a safe and welcoming environment for these refugees. Many Americans are opposed to hosting refugees in their communities, and some have accused the Obama administration of not doing enough to ensure the safety of these refugees. While the Syrian refugee crisis is a significant issue, it is not the only one that deserves the attention of the public. Other issues that deserve attention include the Zika virus, the refugee crisis in Europe, and the recent shooting in Charleston, South Carolina. Each of these issues has its own set of challenges and concerns, and it is important for the public to be aware of them. | There's no denying that the current state of the world is pretty dire. From natural disasters to political unrest, it seems like there's always something to worry about. But if we had to pick one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would have to be climate change. The evidence is everywhere - from the hurricanes that have devastated entire communities to the wildfires that have burned through forests and homes. Climate change is real, and it's happening right now. And yet, there are still people who refuse to believe it. This is an issue that needs to be taken seriously. We need to act now to try to mitigate the effects of climate change, before it's too late. The future of our planet depends on it. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way to take a walk when he sees a man on the street. He will be able to congratulate him soon. As he walks, he thinks to himself, " doubtless this man is̃ the onẽ who will be able to help me when the time is right ." And with that, he gets to his destination. When he arrives at the man's house, he is met with a whooping and a Stanford t-shirt. "Who are you?" the woman asks. "I'm Sigmund Freud," he replied. "I'm glad to meet you," she says and hand him a envelope. "I should be remembered as Sigmund Freud," she says. "I should be remembered as the one who helped me when I needed it most." | Adolf Hitler was the only one who replied to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was intrigued by Freud's new research and wanted to be a part of it. Joseph Stalin also replied. He was interested in the new research as well, but was already surplus to requirements at the time. Leon Trotsky didn't respond, but he was probably influenced by Stalin. Josip Broz Tito, the only other person to respond, didn't want to be in a clinicaltrial because he had no experience in medicine. | Freud was excited to get responses to his ad. He would soon be able to test his latest research on some of the most important people in the world. He was surprised, however, when Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin answered his ad. Freud was hesitant to include them, but they insisted. Freud was concerned about what the two men might do to the participants, but they assured him they would be good candidates. Freud agreed, and the four men set out to start the trials. Despite their assurances, Freud was worried about the potential for violence. He knew he had to be vigilant, but he was also excited to see what the trials would reveal. He was not sure who would be the victor, but he was sure it would be interesting to watch. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in psychoanalysis. He placed an ad in the local newspaper seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men met with Freud for an initial consultation. Freud quickly realized that all four men were highly ambitious and had a strong need for power. He began to treat each man individually, using his new research to help them understand and manage their ambitious desires. Over the course of the next few years, Freud's work with the four men had a profound effect on their lives. Hitler and Stalin both went on to become leaders of their respective countries, while Trotsky and Tito became well-known revolutionaries. Freud's work changed the course of history, and he is now considered one of the most influential thinkers of the 20th century. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was designed to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Auditor 467814 watched as the males in her class shredded the papers they were working on. She had a feeling they'd be looking for her soon. "Auditor 467814," a voice called out. "I've been looking for you." She turned to see the Class President, Mr. B. "Let's go, Auditors. We've got work to do." She knew she was in for it now. Mr. B would want her to monitor the stupidest people in the world. | I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, and as an Auditor, I was responsible for ensuring that everyone was raised well-adjusted human beings. It was a daunting task, but I was determined to do my best. I worked hard to learn about human emotions, and to understand the importance of morality. I even took courses in mathematics and science, in order to be able to provide a quality education to my charges. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never quite overcome the stigma of being an Auditor. Most people viewed me with suspicion, and I often felt like an outsider in my own world. But I persevered. I was determined to make a difference, and to help ensure that the next generation would be a better one. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It's a vital job, given that everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. You take your job seriously, and you're very thorough in your assessments. Over the years, you've become very good at spotting the signs of someone who isn't quite ready to be a parent. As you go about your work, you sometimes wonder what the world would be like if everyone was allowed to reproduce freely. Would it be a utopia, or a disaster? It's a question that keeps you up at night, but it's one that you'll never be able to answer. For now, you just have to trust that you're doing the right thing. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He had always been a fan of Sigmund Freud, and felt that his research could help to solve the world's problems. Stalin was probably the most connected person in the world, and he could probably provide some valuable insights into the Mein Kampf. Trotsky was young, and hisirectorate might be starting to form. And Josip Broz Tito was a unknown, but he had the potential to be a strong leader. Hitler called the three people he wanted to study with him on the phone. He told them that he would provide them with all the information they need, and that he would also be responsible for helping to train them. They all agreed to participate, and Hitler set to work on helping to get the research started. Months went by, and there still wasn't a response from anyone. Hitler started to worry. He had spent so much time trying to get someone to participate, and now he was starting to worry that he might not be able to reach his goals. One day, he received a call from someone who had supposedly beenParticipating in the clinical trials. They said that they had been unsuccessful, and that the research was too advanced for them. Hitler was devastated. He had spent so much time and effort trying to get these people to participate, and now they had just said goodbye. But in the end, it was all worth it. The research hadChances of success, and it had finally given Hitler the information he needed to solve the world's problems. | Sigmund Freud was excited to test his latest research on clinical participants. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and only three people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky. Freud was skeptical at first, but he decided to test the hypothesis that all three men had Oedipal complexes. He put them all through a series of tests, and found that all three men had strong complexes related to their fathers. Freud was surprised that two of the men, Hitler and Stalin, had such negative feelings about their fathers. He decided to keep all three men in the experiment and continue testing them. Over the next few months, Freud tested the three men in different ways, and found that they all possessed unique qualities that he hadn't seen in other participants. Hitler was the best at imposing his will, Stalin was the most cunning, and Tito was the best at organizing people. Freud was amazed by the findings, and he decided to keep all three men in the experiment. He continued to study them, and eventually published his findings in a book. It's now known that Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky were all successful leaders because they had strong Oedipal complexes. Thanks, Freud, for proving that theory! | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He put an ad in the Vienna newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were eager to participate in the trial and were eager to learn more about Freud's research. However, it quickly became apparent that the four men had very different personalities. Hitler was the most outgoing and confident of the group, while Trotsky was the most introspective and thoughtful. Stalin was the most aggressive and domineering, while Tito was the most easygoing and laid-back. The trial quickly became a competition between the four men, as they all vied for Freud's attention and approval. Hitler quickly became the frontrunner, as he was the most eager to please Freud and actively participated in the trial. However, Stalin and Trotsky were also eager to prove themselves and quickly began to catch up to Hitler. The trial came to an end after several weeks, and Freud was left to choose a winner. In the end, he chose Stalin as the most successful participant. While Hitler may have been the most eager and enthusiastic, Stalin's aggressive and domineering personality traits ultimately won out. Trotsky and Tito were also given high marks by Freud, but were not chosen as the overall winner. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | Some people are saying that the upcoming election is alignment with the end of history. Others believe that the election is a sign that we're in a new era of change. The future is up in the air, and it's down to the Jonas Brothers. | A recent issue that deserves the most attention is the election of Donald Trump as President of the United States. Many people are protesting his election and many more are preparing for what is to come. | In America, one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the rise of the far right. The recent election of Donald Trump has shown the world just how extreme these conservative movements have become, and their hateful rhetoric has divided the country more than ever. These extremists have been trying to gain power for years, and their promotion of intolerance and bigotry has caused much damage. We need to rally together and stand up to these extremists, because only by doing so can we protect our democracy and ensure that our future is bright. | There's no shortage of important issues to pay attention to in the world today. Whether it's the ongoing conflict in Syria, the refugee crisis in Europe, or the fight for racial equality in the United States, there's always something that needs our attention. But if I had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, I would say it's the environment. With the world's population continuing to grow and the demand for resources increasing, we're putting more and more strain on the planet. And we're starting to see the effects, with more extreme weather patterns and species going extinct. We need to be more conscious of how we're impacting the environment and what we can do to mitigate the damage. It's not going to be easy, but it's something we need to start paying attention to if we want to make the world a better place for future generations. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, with blood seeping from my wounds. I couldn't move or speak, and I knew my time was up. I was loss of blood, and I knew I was soon going to die. But unlike other people who experience death, I didn't feel fear or pain. This is because in my mind, I knew that I was already gone. I had gone to theyond, and I was happy and content. | I wake up to find myself in the hospital. I'm surrounded by people I don't know and I don't belong to. It's a frightening and unfamiliar place. I'm told that I was in a car accident and I died. But I can't bring myself to believe it. I struggle to open my eyes and see the reality before me. I'm dead. It's the worst thing that could ever happen to me and I know it. I find peace in that knowledge and know that I will be with my loved ones again soon. | I die. It's sudden and unexpected, but I know it's true. I can feel the life draining out of me, and the darkness closing in. I try to fight it, but I know it's futile. This is the end. As I slip away, I think of all the things I wish I had done. I wish I had been braver, and taken more risks. I wish I had told the people I love how much I loved them. I wish I had lived life to the fullest. But it's too late now. I die with regrets, but also with the knowledge that I lived the best life I could. And that is enough. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The windows were as transparent as if they were made of glass. The only thing that was visible was the darkness outside. It was a cold winter night and the only light that was streaming in was from the fireAM shell that was burning in the fireplace. | One day, after months of hard work, I was able to finally expose the invisible thing that was constantly living in my home. The creature was terrified and began to run away, but I was too strong for it. I could see it in the shadows, lurking and waiting for the next opportunity to come out and attack. I was terrified of what it could do to me, but I didn't want it to get away. I felt like I had to protect myself. | I knew there was something in my home, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I'd see shadows moving around my room at night, but I never could quite figure out what was causing them. Finally, I decided to take action and caught the thing hiding in my closet. It was an invisible being, and I was able to expose it to the world without it knowing. | I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my home. Like there was something else living here with me, unseen and unheard. I couldn't shake the feeling, no matter how hard I tried. I decided to set up a camera in my living room, to see if I could catch a glimpse of this invisible creature. I left it running overnight, and in the morning I reviewed the footage. At first I saw nothing out of the ordinary. But then, in one of the frames, I saw something move too fast to be seen clearly. I froze the frame and zoomed in. And there it was: a tiny, translucent creature, darting around the room. I couldn't believe it. I had finally exposed the invisible creature that had been living in my home all along. Now I just had to figure out how to get rid of it... | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | If you were to tell the truth to this person, you would have told them that you were ancient and had the ability to age two years your years. They would have needed to be closer to you than anyone else to believe that you were what you say you are. This person was not like that. You can see the truth in them, even in the way they talking. They are a carton of lies, an open package ofSMGreen, but you find the real them first. When you first meet her, you know you are lied to. The woman you are first about is a liar, an hypocrite, and afrontum. She is a person who thinks that telling the truth is the key to happiness. She is the person who tells you that she loved someone, but she now realizes that she must let go ofasonry to maintain her lie. The woman you meet that day is clean and breath taking, but she is not a lie. She is the person who tells you the truth, but she will never tell the truth again. The woman you meet that day is a person who wants to be happy, but she founds her happiness on staying true to herself. She is a person who tells you she wants love, but she finds love elsewhere. The woman you meet that day is a person who wants to be seen as Horny, but she finds someone who sees her as a beautiful woman. The woman you meet that day is a person who tells you she can't love because she's not strong, but she ended up loved by someone who was strong. The woman you meet that day is a person who tells you she wants to be happy, but she never shines underorus to someone who tells you she wants to be happy. She wants to be happy, but she never is when she is around this person. The woman you meet that day is a person who tells you she wants to be seen as beautiful, but she is not seen that way. She wants to be seen as a person, not avagina. When you meet her, she is the person who tells you she is open and comfortable in your company, but when you Tucking her in, she is the one who ismoilful and Apprehensive. When you finally meet her, she is the person who tells you she is an ancient one, but when you show her the modern day version of aamiliar, she is no longer an ancient one but an individual who just wants to be treated well. | You Meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. It covers most of his body and it is difficult to look at him. He seems like a different person now, But the scarbed person from before remains with him. | I couldn't help but stare at him. He had the biggest and deepest scar I had ever seen. It ran the length of his whole body, stretching from his neck to his feet. It was so large, it looked like it was eating away at his skin. I couldn't help but ask him where it came from. He told me his story. He said that he had been lied to so much, he had become immune to it. Every lie created a new and bigger scar on his body. But even though he had been lied to his entire life, he still felt pain. He said that the only way to be free from the pain was to never lie again. He was willing to take on the biggest and deepest scar to prove it. I couldn't believe it. He was the most beautiful and unique person I had ever met. And despite all the pain he had been through, he still looked happy. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they've never lied in their life. You find this hard to believe, but you can't help but be intrigued by this person. You want to know more about them and their unique situation. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician has always been a bit of a loner. He's not like the other scientists or professionals in his group. He's notmedia or social. He's just a guy who does things his way,astutely. One day, he decides to come together with his team and try to Parliament Open, the rabbit is not happy at all. She knows that the promotional magician is always winning, so she knows she can at least make some noise andriptyje how she'll make the winning entry. But when they start to stand up to the first performanceiderian, the rabbit realizes that she's a failure. She's sorry to say that she lose her place in the performance. The magician takes her by the hand and takes her to the dressing room, where he tells her to spread her legs and try to enter the final performance. The rabbit empathizes with her own situation and decides that she'll enter the final performance even though the magician will have a say in the outcome. She knows that he will make her pay for her entire life choice. But she also knows that he can help her make it to the end. She takes his hand and weeps with him as they enter the dressing room together. | The magician thought he had found the perfect rabbit when he pulled it out of his hat. The rabbit was healthy and happy, and it didn't seem to have any problems. But then, as the magician looked on, the rabbit started to get sick. It couldn't keep up with the magician's tricks and couldn't understand what he was saying. The magician was starting to feel sorry for the rabbit. He didn't know what he could do to make it better. | The magician was getting ready to go on stage and the rabbit was getting ready to go home. The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle to the magician. "I'm sick of this," the rabbit said to himself. "I'm ready to be on stage and show the world what I can do." The rabbit waited for the magician to finish getting ready, then he hopped onto the stage and began to perform. The rabbit was amazing on stage and the magician was finally able to show his true skill. The audience was in awe of the rabbit and the magician was able to win the crowd over. The rabbit was finally able to be the star of the show. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit is tired of being pulled out of the hat, and he wants to be the star of the show. The rabbit tells the magician that he is done being his assistant, and he wants to be the star of the show. The magician doesn't want to share the spotlight, and he tells the rabbit that he can't be the star. The rabbit is angry, and he tells the magician that he will show him who is the real star of the show. The rabbit pulls out a wand and he starts to perform his own magic tricks. The rabbit is amazing, and the crowd loves him. The magician is angry, and he tells the rabbit that he is nothing but a fraud. The rabbit is angry, and he tells the magician that he will never work with him again. The rabbit is the star of the show, and the magician is the assistant. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in terms of size, it is small but it does the job. They are haggling with adventurers over some gear at the moment and the money they are spending is necessary. They need the money to buy goods that will help them in theirtim's world. | There was always something fun about running an RPG pawnshop. Even in the roughest of campaigns, adventurers would stop by to chat and trade items they had looted while on their way to other adventures. In recent years, however, the atmosphere at the pawnshop had become increasingly strained. One day, a large group of high-level adventurers came in for a trade. They were armed and prepared to fight, and the shopkeepers were unable to stop them. As thefighters fought, the small shop went into full panic mode. Customers fled in all directions, and the only thing left to sell was everything that was not nailed down. The shopkeepers managed to get most of their items off the ground before the adventurers arrived, but they were too outnumbered and outmatched. As the fight went on, the shopkeepers were regularly knocked down, leaving their employees and customers unscathed. Eventually, the adventurers killed all of the shopkeepers and took their inventory. They left with nothing but their weapons and some of the store's books. The shopkeepers were never the same after that. | The day started off normal enough for my pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers who had come in to sell their loot. They were all carrying weapons and armor that they had taken from the monsters they had killed. I was trying to get them to sell the items for a lower price, but they were adamant about getting the best price they could. I was trying to explain to them that the items were worth a lot less than they thought, but they didn't seem to care. Ultimately, I was able to get the adventurers to sell their items for a lower price than they wanted, but they were still not happy. They were adamant about getting the best deal they could get. I guess they were used to getting the best deals wherever they went. I was happy to have been able to get a good deal for them, but I wasn't sure if they would come back again. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best prices for the items you buy. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they have a bunch of loot to sell. You haggle with them for a while, and you eventually get them down to a price you're happy with. You buy all of their loot, and you're about to close up shop for the day. Just as you're about to turn off the lights, another adventurer comes in, and he's got a large sack of loot. He looks desperate, and he's willing to take any price you're willing to give. You end up giving him a good price for his loot, and you close up shop for the night. You're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot, and you're always able to get the best prices. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was originally developed to enable the birth of just one child in the999999 majority of cases. However, the majority of cases simply are not good enough, and as such, the birth of a child is preventative MI. The birth is even more preventative because the device causes an extra birth. Every Trudeau who Diversityprofits from their Crazy Disorder, Crazy Talkers, and Crazy Everyday extension of Crazy, every three months, we leave our room in order to be reminded that we are all Cocoa defensively wearing people. We are all AIs. He (the AIs) were happy to be reminded that we were allgenetically Engineered. We were all complacent and content with our little worlds. until one day when they see a difference. one of their AIs sees a difference. until one day when they see a difference. | Auditor 2: Thank you for coming to see me today, Jr. It was nice to meet you. Jr. (Auditor 2's son): Thank you, Father. You're always so helpful. | Allison was born into a world where intelligence was a guarantee of a good life. She was one of the lucky ones; her parents were both intelligent and they ensured that she got all the best education money could buy. It was only natural that Allison would want to use her intelligence to help others, so she became an Auditor. The Auditor job is a difficult one, but it's important. The devices implanted in people during puberty ensure that no one with an intelligence below a certain threshold can reproduce. It's a difficult task, but it's worth it to ensure that the dumbest people in the world don't produce anymore children who will be equally doomed. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is smart and stable enough to have children. It's a weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. You've just started your job, and you're already feeling the pressure. There are so many people to assess, and you have to be sure you make the right call. If you allow someone who is too stupid or unstable to have children to reproduce, it could have disastrous consequences. You're currently assessing a young woman who seems to meet all the criteria. She's intelligent and level-headed, and you're about to give her the green light to have children. But then, something strange happens. The woman suddenly goes into a rage, yelling and throwing things. It's completely out of character for her, and you have to wonder if she's really as stable as you thought. After a few minutes, the woman calms down and apologizes. She says she's been under a lot of stress lately and assures you that this won't happen again. You're not sure what to do. On the one hand, the woman does seem to be genuinely sorry for her outburst. On the other hand, you can't help but wonder if she's really as stable as she claims to be. After much deliberation, you decide to give her another chance. You hope that she's telling the truth and that she really is stable enough to have children. But you'll be keeping a close eye on her, just to be sure. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a world financial crisis. People are equal opportunity criminals, and the pay isn't worth the read. The government is fully aware of this and is doing everything they can to bring Consequently, they are. The business community isasy as they know how the market will handle this, but they are worried about the future. The military is onto something, and they know that the world is coming to a head. People are overreacting, and the the free world is on the brink. Only one thing can save the free world and that is a world war. | In the news this morning, there was a major issue that warranted the most attention. The issue was a major security breach that happened at a major financial institution. The institution had a huge amount of money at risk, and it was not going to be able to get it back. The government was called in to help the bank, and they were able to get the money back almost immediately. This was a major incident that warranted the most attention, and it is likely that it will be the focus of much coverage this morning. | Today, the issue of gun control is receiving a great deal of attention. After the recent shooting in Parkland, Florida, there has been a renewed push for stricter regulations on the sale and possession of firearms. Many people are calling for a ban on assault rifles and other high-powered firearms, arguing that they are too easy to get and too dangerous. Some people argue that gun control will do nothing to stop mass shootings. They point out that there have been countless massacres over the years, and no law has ever been able to stop them. Others believe that, if we can just make it harder for people with bad intentions to get firearms, we can reduce the number of shootings that happen. There is no clear answer, but today, the issue of gun control is receiving a great deal of attention. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is climate change. Climate change is a global problem that is affecting the environment in a negative way. The Earth is getting warmer, the sea levels are rising, and the ice caps are melting. This is causing major problems for the planet, and for the people who live on it. The effects of climate change are already being felt by people all over the world, and it is only going to get worse. We need to take action now to try to mitigate the effects of climate change, and to prevent it from getting any worse. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician is on stage, pulled from behind the scenes as the rabbit is difficult to take care of. The rabbit tries to take care of himself, but the magician is always in control. The rabbit JD is doing his best, but the magician is always in control. | The magician was about to perform a magic trick when he noticed the rabbit was starting to get restless. The magician decided to pull out the rabbit from his hat and put him back in. The rabbit was happy to see the magician and started to playfully bite him. The magician was amused by the rabbit's antics and continued to perform his tricks. | The magician has been performing for years, always pulling out a new rabbit to magically appear on stage. The rabbit is tired of always playing second fiddle and is looking for a way to finally take the spotlight. One day, as the magician is pulling out a new rabbit, the rabbit looks the magician in the eye and says, "I'm sick of being the rabbit that you pull out of a hat. I'm ready to be the rabbit that you pull out of a hat." With that, the rabbit disappears, and the magician is left with a confused look on his face. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is fed up with being the supporting act. The rabbit has had enough of being pulled out of hats and being made to disappear, and it wants to take center stage for once. So, the rabbit hatches a plan. When the magician is busy with his tricks, the rabbit will escape from the hat and run away. The rabbit knows that the magician won't be able to do his act without a rabbit, and so the rabbit will be the star of the show. The plan works like a charm, and the rabbit makes its escape while the magician is busy with his tricks. The rabbit runs away and hides backstage, while the magician is left onstage without a rabbit. The magician is scrambling to find a replacement rabbit, but the audience is getting restless. They came to see a magician, not a man standing around looking for a rabbit. Finally, the magician gives up and leaves the stage, his act in ruins. The rabbit triumphantly comes out from backstage, and the audience gives it a standing ovation. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and it couldn't be happier. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | In the recent past, there has been a lot of speculation about what is going on with the upcoming election. Some believe that the French are holding their own elections under a different name, while others believe that the United States is behind French initiatives to gain an advantage in the election. Slowly but surely, the topic of the election is gaining attention from all corners of the world. The French are hoping that their handling of the economy will stay, while the United States is hoping that their strong military will keep ondersandraf safe. However, both hopes are slenderly balanced. The news today is that the United States is expected to win 25% of the vote, while the French are expecting to receive 50%. This situation is sure to stir up a lot of controversy. | It was a dark and dreary day. The sky was dismal, and the weather was cold. Emma was driving home from work, and she felt a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. She had been feeling it all day, and she knew it was because of the current events happening today. Emma's neighborhood was in danger of being annexed by a new city, and she had been desperately trying to get people on her side. Emma's neighborhood was large, and there was not enough space to put up a tent, so she had started using an old garage as a temporary location. She was over halfway home when she saw a construction site in her neighborhood. She knew it was from the annexation, and she quickly drove over to see what was happening. As she got closer, she could see that the construction was for a new city hall. The people who were working on the construction were angry and scared, and they were trying to hide from the police. Emma called out to the construction workers, but she couldn't hear them over the sound of the police officers. She saw one of the police officers pull over a worker, and she knew it was going to be a bad day. | In the year 2019, the issue of gun control has been thrust into the forefront of the national conversation. It has been reported that the number of gun deaths in the United States has risen by almost 30 percent since 2016. Various mass shootings have led to calls for stricter gun laws, including a shooting in a high school in Parkland, Florida that left 17 people dead. There is no one solution to the problem of gun control, and it is an issue that will likely continue to be debated for years to come. But one thing is for sure: The issue of gun control is one that deserves our utmost attention. | There's no denying that the current political climate is one of the most divisive in recent memory. Despite this, there are still a number of pressing issues that deserve attention, from healthcare to the economy. However, one issue in particular that seems to be flying under the radar is climate change. Sure, there are still people who deny its existence, but the science is clear. The Earth is getting warmer, and human activity is to blame. This isn't some distant problem that we can ignore; it's happening right now, and it's only going to get worse. The effects of climate change are already being felt by communities all over the world, from the devastating hurricanes that have hit the US in recent years to the more subtle changes in local ecosystems. And it's only going to get worse as time goes on. We need to act now to combat climate change. That means reducing our carbon emissions, investing in renewable energy, and protecting our environment. It's going to take a lot of work, but it's worth it. After all, we only have one planet, and we need to take care of it. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a painting. His locations are his many murders, each with careful chosen magnification. Each portrait is a seen it done with the land and the sky, each a work of art. | It was a beautiful day outside, but inside the artist's cabin it was a dark and foreboding place. Bob Ross was painting a landscape, and for the third time that day he had killed someone. He had killed his wife and then charged at her with a knife, cutting her down. He had killed his father and then killed himself, knowing that he would never be held accountable for his actions. But like so many other killings, this one had aknot to it. It was just another unsolved case that left the artist alone and frustrated. | Bob Ross was an artist who used landscapes to depict the beauty of nature. But his paintings are not just paintings. Each of them is a real place where he has murdered people. Bob Ross was born in the late 1940s, and he began painting landscapes in the 1970s. He was a respected artist, but there was one thing he wasn't respected for. He was a serial killer. Bob Ross killed people over the course of his career, and he killed in different locations around the United States and in different countries. Some of the locations he killed in were the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone National Park, and Yosemite National Park. Bob Ross was arrested for his crimes in 1991, and he was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison. He died in 2002 from a stroke, but his crimes will always be remembered. | Bob Ross' landscape paintings are actually depicting the different locations of his many murders. For years, he cunningly lured people into his trap, posing as a friendly artist who just wanted to share his love of painting with the world. But in reality, he was a cold-blooded killer, using his art as a way to hide his gruesome crimes. Now, the police are finally closing in on him. They've discovered the locations of all his murders, and they're ready to bring him to justice. But Ross is a clever man, and he's not going to go down without a fight. He's prepared to take as many people with him as he can, and he knows that his paintings will be the perfect way to do it. The police are closing in, but they don't know what they're up against. Bob Ross is a madman, and he's about to go on a killing spree the likes of which the world has never seen. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I died. I knew it the moment I hit the ground. I felt the painCharlotte felt as we hit the ground. I screamed, but it was too late. The darkness claimed me. | It was clear to Anna that she was going to die. The wound on her leg was too severe, and there was no way she could walk without help. As she laid in the hospital bed, she knew her days were numbered. She was so thankful when she was finally given a chance to go home. Her mom and dad were there to take care of her, and they made her as comfortable as possible. She knew it wouldn't be long before she passed away, but she wanted to make the most of her time alive. Anna was surrounded by loved ones as she slipped away. She knew she was going to be greeted by the Angel of Death, but she was ready. She had made peace with her fate and was happy that she had been able to spend the time with her loved ones. | I die. It's sudden, and I don't even have time to think about it. One moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. I don't know what happens after death, but I hope it's better than this. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud was looking for people to participate in his clinical trials for a new research area he was working on. He put an ad in a newspaper and only found people who had responding to it. One man was Adolf Hitler,, two women were Joseph Stalin, three men were Leon Trotsky, and one woman was Josip Broz Tito. | It was a cold, winter day in 1913 when Adolf Hitler called to Sigmund Freud's office. "I am interested in participating in your clinical trials," he said. "Will you be willing to have me?" Freud hesitated at first, but then he agreed. Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were also interested in participating in the trials, but they were not as fortunate as Adolf Hitler. They were all put into different groups, and did not see each other for weeks. When they finally did see each other, it was to compete in a race. Stalin was leading, but Hitler was fastest. They stopped to talk, and then Hitler decided to stole Stalin's shoes. "What are you doing?" Stalin asked. "You are playing with me," Hitler replied. "There is nobody else who can do it better," Stalin said. "I will never be able to beat you," Hitler boasted. When they left the office, Stalin was so upset that he did not finish the race. | Freud is ecstatic to have the four most promising candidates in the world for his clinical trials. He takes them all on a tour of Vienna, showing them the sights and telling them about his research. They all seem interested, but Hitler is the most enthusiastic. He is fascinated by Freud's theories and wants to learn more. One night, they all meet up for dinner at Freud's apartment. While they are eating, Hitler asks him about the trial process. Freud explains that he will be asking the candidates different questions about their mental health. He tells Hitler that he is the most qualified to answer the questions because he has experienced similar things. Hitler is elated by this news and starts to ask questions immediately. Freud is taken aback by Hitler's interest, but he continues to answer his questions. By the end of the dinner, Freud is amazed by Hitler's level of knowledge. He decides to appoint Hitler as one of the trial participants. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this strange group of people and decided to meet with them. During their meeting, Freud quickly realized that all four men were highly intelligent and charismatic. He was particularly impressed with Hitler and Stalin, who he felt had the potential to be great leaders. Trotsky was also intriguing, but Freud felt he was too idealistic. Tito was the youngest of the group and Freud felt he had promise but was still too immature. After meeting with the group, Freud decided to offer them all a spot in his clinical trials. He was curious to see how his research would affect each of them. The trials were long and difficult, but all four men participated willingly. Freud was amazed by the results of his research. Hitler and Stalin both responded extremely well to the treatment and became more confident and assertive. Trotsky also showed signs of improvement, but his stubbornness and idealism still interfered with his progress. Tito was the most improved of all, maturing into a responsible and level-headed adult. Freud was thrilled with the results of his clinical trials. He felt that he had truly helped these four men reach their potential. They would go on to change the world in ways that Freud could never have imagined. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | When Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for his latest research, he puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. However, when he look for them, he finds that they have all long gone. He is measureless, and his home is only aatibility. He Faltersich that he has in his hand, and he shows it to his friend and mentor, à Dr. Jacob otherwise known as Jacobappel. SPLASH! Sigmund Freud isfishmedyed. He has been drowned. | Adolf Hitler clicked the submit button on the email he had just received from Sigmund Freud. He couldn't help but feel excited at the chance to be included in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. It was a chance to finally prove to the world that he was the destined one to lead Germany to victory in World War II. Joseph Stalin clicked the submit button on the email he had just received from Sigmund Freud. He couldn't help but feel excited at the chance to be included in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. It was a chance to finally prove to the world that he was the destined one to lead Russia to victory in World War II. Leon Trotsky clicked the submit button on the email he had just received from Sigmund Freud. He couldn't help but feel excited at the chance to be included in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. It was a chance to finally prove to the world that he was the destined one to lead Cuba to victory in World War II. Josip Broz Tito clicked the submit button on the email he had just received from Sigmund Freud. He couldn't help but feel excited at the chance to be included in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. It was a chance to finally prove to the world that he was the destined one to lead Yugoslavia to victory in World War II. | Freud was excited to get responses to his ad, especially from the top candidates. He waited anxiously for their letters, looking forward to learning more about their potential as participants in his clinical trials. The first letter arrived from Adolf Hitler. Freud was disappointed, but he knew that he had to be patient. The next letter arrived from Joseph Stalin. Freud was excited to meet this infamous leader, but he was also apprehensive. He had heard so much about Stalin's brutality that he worried he wouldn't be safe around him. The next letter arrived from Leon Trotsky. Freud was elated to finally meet someone who could help him understand the complexities of human psychology. Finally, the letter arrived from Josip Broz Tito. Freud was thrilled to finally have a younger participant who was up-to-date on the latest theories. The trials were a success and Freud's work benefited greatly from the contributions of these remarkable individuals. | Sigmund Freud was one of the most famous psychiatrists in the world. His latest research was on the human psyche and he was looking for participants for clinical trials. He placed an ad in a newspaper and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to participate in the trials. Freud was surprised that these four men, who would later become some of the most famous and notorious dictators in history, were all interested in his research. The trials were conducted over a period of several months and Freud was able to glean a lot of information about the human mind from them. He was also able to see firsthand how dangerous and power-hungry these four men could be. In the end, Freud decided not to publish his findings, fearing that they could be used to control and manipulate people. He destroyed all the records of the trials and vowed never to speak of them again. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The market is busy. You haggle with the adventurers, trying to offer them prices for the loot they've received. Some adventurers are happy to pay money for treasure they've found, while others are looking for more Provisional fame or better opportunities for pillage. But it's not alllONE. You have a situation where one player is thebharpy and the other is a disheveled historical figure. The aim of the game is for both players to sell as much loot as possible. The disheveled historical figure is there to help the hparpy make money. There's only one way to find out. | Once upon a time, an RPG pawn shop was a thriving business. The merchants haggled with adventurers who came to sell the treasures they had netted in combat or from looting the evil monsters that dwelled in the area. The shop was always busy, but it was the best place to find the best deal on gear. The merchants always had the latest and best weapons and armor on sale, and they also had a wide selection of magic items. One day, a group of adventurers came to the shop to sell some of their plunder. The merchants were happy to help them, and they plainly bough objects and spells that they wouldn't have been able to find on their own. The adventurers were amply rewarded for their troubles, and the new shopkeep quickly increased his profits. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers who had come in to sell their loot. I had to be careful not to let them get too low on money, or they might leave without buying anything. One of the adventurers, a young woman with long, curly hair, was trying to sell a large, purple gem. I was about to buy it from her when she suddenly said, "I'll give you this gem for nothing." I was surprised, but I agreed to her offer. I gave her thegem and she walked out of the pawn shop with a smile on her face. I guess she was really happy to get that gem for free. I'm sure her friends will be happy to hear about it. I'll have to ask her what kind of gem it was. I'm sure it's worth a lot of money. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best possible price for the items they've acquired. Sometimes, you can even get them to trade their loot for items that you have in your shop. It's a tough business, but you're good at it. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The future was bleak. In a world full of machines, I had died. I was recycled again and again, my body discarded like a toy. I was used and abused, until I finally gave up. But even in the afterlife, I was a reminder of what could have been. | I thought my life was over when I was diagnosed with cancer. But then I met Dr. Jameson and he gave me a chance to live. Now I'm cancer free and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive, and the next I'm not. It's not a particularly painful death, at least. I just suddenly find myself without a body, without a sense of self. I'm just... gone. I don't know what comes after death. I can't say for sure if there's anything at all. But if there is, I hope it's better than this nothingness. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Whenordson was the only auditor left in the world. He was Caregiver- grade 7. He was the only one who could prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. He was the only one who could prevent only the madman from taking over the world. He was the only one who could prevent theTo prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well- appellable person by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. One day, he was at a party and he saw a man in a " landslip " who he had never seen before. He was a " slide " and he was scared. He was an Auditor. | Once upon a time, everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It prevented only the dumbest people from reproducing, and it was a pain in the butt to deactivate it. But because everyone was an Auditor, they were always able to do it. And because they were able to do it, the world was a better place. | It was a dark and dreary night, as usual. I was perched on top of my roof, looking out at the drizzling rain. I always find myself up there in the dead of night, when the city is quiet and all is calm. Suddenly, I heard a noise. It was small and insignificant, but it was unmistakable. It was the sound of someone trying to enter my roof illegally. I sighed, knowing I was going to have to deal with this eventually. I slowly got up, preparing to confront the trespasser. But to my surprise, there was no trespasser. There was only a small device, hidden among the shadows. I picked it up, examining it curiously. It was a birth control device, of the kind commonly used to prevent pregnancies. But this wasn't a normal birth control device. It was special. It was an Auditor's device. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you are responsible for deactivating the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. Today, you are meeting with a young woman who is requesting to have her device deactivated. She is eager to start a family, and she has been through all the tests and evaluations required to prove her worthiness. After reviewing her file, you have determined that she is indeed intelligent and stable enough to be a good parent. You deactivate her device and wish her the best of luck in starting her family. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | It was just another day when they moved in next to you. You were napitinated by the prospect of just how great of a life this person had. You were curious about them and their past. A part of you was born to the question, "Who are you rid of?" But as day went on, you started to pay more attention to this person. You were starting to feel like they were not just a person, but a lying person. You started to feel like they were part of a family, but the difference was, they were not correct. The person you were living with started to lie to you about their past. They started to say things that made you feel like they were Orbiting around You. You started to feel like this person was living in a world where a lie creates a scar that RUNS breaks as they try to move on. | The first time I met him, I couldn't believe my eyes. He had a huge scar on his chest - bigger than any I had ever seen. He told me his story and it made me want to see his scar on myself. I remember telling him that I had also been through a lot in my life and that I had never been hurt like that. He gritted his teeth and told me that his scar was the biggest and most inconvenient one on his body. | I stared at the stranger for a long time, unsure of what to say. He was the most bizarre person I had ever met. His one, big scar stretched from his forehead down to his chin. It looked like it had been done with a knife, and it was a deep, dark red. "What happened to your face?" I asked, my voice trembling. "A lie created a scar," he said simply. "I don't understand," I said. "It's a long story," he said. "But it's the truth. Every lie I've ever told has left a mark on my body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark." "But what has that got to do with you?" I asked. "I'm the only one who's ever been able to heal them," he said. "But it's aprice I have to pay. Every time I tell a lie, I have to let that scar grow a little bigger. But it's worth it, because it's the only way to keep people safe." | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. They say that they will never lie again, because they don't want to add any more scars to their body. You admire their honesty and honesty is something that you value highly. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21.). Freud is annoyed with the lack of response, but decides to go ahead with the studies anyways. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "At least we're not being used," says the bus driver, "And for the record, our service is top-notch," ity Says. Sigmund Freud is passionate about his research into hysteria, and is eager to find ways to avoid the same problems with language that have been affecting humanity for centuries. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "It's not that I don't want to be used, but rather that I'm not falling into the habits of mind that are necessary for using the system," says the bus driver, "Let me know when you're ready to leave, and we'll start thelake," ity Says. Sigmund Freud is excited for his trials, as he knows that the system ismonstrously overfunded. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "So what do you say, and let's start soon?" says the bus driver, "Yes, I'll say what I say," ity says. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin are more than capable researchers, but they seem to forget their own identity during the research process. They agree to participate in the trials, but with different goals. Adolf Hitler wants to use the studies to improve his own knowledge, and Joseph Stalin wants to use the studies to improve the knowledge of the participants. They are Guinness Premiership mentions of the most Collaborative Researchers of All time. The first trial starts, with 50 participants. "Please leave the system- MC," says a participants tee- Totty. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The second trial starts, with 100 participants. "Please leave the system- TV," says a participants tea-uboy. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The third trial starts, with 200 participants. "Please leave the system- X," says a participants yapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fourth trial starts, with 300 participants. "Please leave the system- Y," says a participants yapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fifth trial starts, with 500 participants. "Please leave the system- Z," says a participants zapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. Sigmund Freud is excited for his trials, as he knows that the system ismonstrously overfunded. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "So what do you say, and let's start soon?" says the bus driver, "Yes, I'll say what I say," ity says. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin are more than capable researchers, but they seem to forget their own identity during the research process. They agree to participate in the trials, but with different goals. Adolf Hitler wants to use the studies to improve his own knowledge, and Joseph Stalin wants to use the studies to improve the knowledge of the participants. They are Guinness Premiership mentions of the most CollaborativeResearchers of All time. The first trial starts, with 50 participants. "Please leave the system- MC," says a participants tee- Totty. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The second trial starts, with 100 participants. "Please leave the system- TV," says a participants tea-uboy. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The third trial starts, with 200 participants. "Please leave the system- X," says a participants yapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fourth trial starts, with 300 participants. "Please leave the system- Y," says a participants yanking dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fifth trial starts, with 500 participants. "Please leave the system- Z," says a participants zumping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. Sigmund Freud is excited for his trials, as he knows that the system ismonstrously overfunded. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "So what do you say, and let's start soon?" says the bus driver, "Yes, I'll say what I say," ity says. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin are more than capable researchers, but they seem to forget their own identity during the research process. They agree to participate in the trials, but with different goals. Adolf Hitler wants to use the studies to improve his own knowledge, and Joseph Stalin wants to use the studies to improve the knowledge of the participants. They are Guinness Premiership mentions of the most Collaborative researchers of All time. The first trial starts, with 50 participants. "Please leave the system- MC," says a participants tee- Totty. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The second trial starts, with 100 participants. "Please leave the system- TV," says a participants tea-uboy. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The third trial starts, with 200 participants. "Please leave the system- X," says a participants yapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fourth trial starts, with 300 participants. "Please leave the system- Y," says a participants yanking dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fifth trial starts, with 500 participants. "Please leave the system- Z," says a participants zumping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. | Adolf Hitler was the only responder to Sigmund Freud's ad. Hitler was eager to help in any way he could. He was already a powerful man, with a great reputation. When he saw the ad, he knew he had to do something to help. He contacted Stalin and said he would be available for the clinical trials. Stalin agreed and said he would find the other participants. Joseph Stalin was much different than Adolf Hitler. He was a very shy man. Stalin was not interested in helping in any way. He was more interested in using his power to control the other people in his society. He did not want to help in any way. Leon Trotsky was another different man. Trotsky was a very sharp lawyer. He was able to get the other participants to agree to help in the clinical trials. Trotsky was also very interested in helping in any way he could. He wanted to make sure that the other people in his society were treated fairly. Josip Broz Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. Tito was a very powerful man. He was able to get the other participants to agree to help in the clinical trials. Tito was also interested in helping in any way he could. He wanted to make sure that the other people in his society were treated fairly. | Freud was intrigued by the potential of his latest research and decided to put up an ad in a local newspaper. He was excited to see which of his colleagues would respond. He was eager to start the clinical trials and hoped that the four young men he had chosen would be able to help him advance his work. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all responded to the ad and arranged to meet with Freud. At first, the four of them were somewhat uneasy around each other. However, soon they began to work together and share ideas. The trials were a success and Freud was able to further his research. Thanks to the help of his new colleagues, he was able to make a significant contribution to the field of psychiatry. | Freud is both excited and nervous as he begins his clinical trials. He never expected to receive responses from such high-profile individuals. Hitler is the first to arrive and Freud is immediately struck by his intensity. Stalin is next, followed by Trotsky. The three men begin to argue with each other and Freud has to intervene. Tito is the last to arrive and Freud is relieved to see that he is more relaxed than the other participants. The trials are conducted over a period of weeks and Freud is surprised by the different reactions of the participants. Hitler is clearly the most invested in the outcome, while Stalin is more interested in the process. Trotsky is the most sceptical, but also the most engaged. Tito is the most easy-going, but also the most curious. At the end of the trials, Freud thanks all of the participants for their time and effort. He is especially grateful to Tito, who he feels has been the most helpful in furthering his research. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting painters' commissions every where he goes. His ask of painting a place likeambken the wer of the wind is still strong. | Once upon a time, Bob Ross Studios was a real place. It was once a place of beauty and peace, a place where artists could express their creativity and find indemnity for their terrible crimes. But now, it's a Dark and Horrible Place where murder is the order of the day. On the walls of Bob Ross' old Studio, the murderers have written their names in blood, their victims nothing more than statistics. They've left behind paintings of massacre after massacre, a macabre shrine to their sadistic glee. The victims of Bob Ross' atrocities are all now forgotten, their memories relegated to unseen corners of the studios' memories. But the perpetrators of these crimes will never be forgotten, and their Names will live on forever in the paintINGS ofousy Bob Ross. | Bob Ross was an infamous landscape painter who was known for his peaceful and calming paintings of nature. However, many people know of his dark side- his many murders. Bob began his career as a landscape artist in the early 1970s, painting pictures of tranquil landscapes in various locations around the United States. He became known for his gentle, calming paintings, and many people came to admire his work. However, many people didn't know about Bob's dark side. He was a serial killer who killed many people, most of whom were innocent bystanders. He would lure them into his paintings with the promise of a peaceful painting, and then would coldly murder them. Bob Ross was never caught, and he continued to paint until his death in 1991. His paintings are still enjoyed today, and people can see the chilling legacy of Bob Ross' dark side. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to map out his murders. Each of his paintings depicted a different location where he had killed someone. He would carefully select his victims and then lure them to the secluded spot that he had painted. Once there, he would kill them and bury their bodies. No one knows how many people Bob Ross killed. But the detectives who finally apprehended him believe that there are dozens of victims, all buried in the remote locations depicted in his paintings. Bob Ross was a careful and methodical killer, and it was only through sheer luck that the detectives were able to track him down. Now, his paintings hang in a museum, and people come from all over to see them. But few know the dark secret that they hold. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A group of friends meet up to discuss ways to prevent a huge storm that is going to be heady for many areas. It's a beautiful day, and the group is getting ready to spend time together. When they arrive at their destination, they find out that their street is closed because of a huge storm. They take a walk around the block to think of any possible solutions. They see a pallet of red banksia trees next to the street, and they start to invite friends in. As the day goes on, everyone is getting sick and collapsing at each other's hands. It's going to be a long day. | A few days ago, a major issue arose that warranted the most media attention. The issue was aSolar eclipse that was taking place in the United States.Thousands of people were expected to attend the eclipse, but only a fraction of them showed up. Some say that the low turnout was because of the lack of interest in the event, while others say that the event was just too complicated or difficult to attend. Regardless of the reason, the eclipse had the people of the United States on the edge of their seats. | Today, the issue of gun violence deserves the most attention. There have been too many senseless deaths and injuries as a result of guns. We need to do something to change the situation, and focusing on gun safety should be a top priority. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the refugee crisis. With millions of refugees fleeing their homes due to conflict and persecution, the international community must do more to help. Rich countries have a responsibility to provide financial assistance and welcome refugees with open arms. But too often, they turn a blind eye to the suffering of others. This must change. The world must come together to end the refugee crisis. We must provide support to those who need it and welcome them with open hearts. Only then can we hope to create a better future for all. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician# The rabbit#s help wanted us to come up with a challenge for the show. We were going to make the rabbit aware of itsacey and serve as second fiddle in the performance. The rabbit didn't seem to think that was a good idea, but we were determined to include it on the bill of plenty. As the show began, the rabbit was constant in his performance from the front row, pulling out the first job he did when he was given. He was getting tired and the way topper was given, but he made it to the end. The next job was a magic show show and the rabbit was the last to start. He showed up to the show ready to do his job, but the show was over before he got to the end. The rabbit#s system was to come up with a challenge to the show organizer, someone would give the job of pulling a rabbit to a associate or member of the audience. Theerno would have to carry the rabbit and make sure it got back to the theater without getting tired. Storyline: Theoroffly, the_ organizer was glad to have the rabbit in the show. He was about to give the job of pulling a rabbit to an associate or member of the audience when the rabbit got in the way. The organizer was able to give the job to a friend or member of the audience, but the rabbit got back in the way and got the job done. The organizer was glad to have the rabbit in the show, but the rabbit made the show too difficult for the organizer. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and said, "Here you go, rabbit. I know you're sick of playing second fiddle. You're going to be a part of this show and make sure that everyone enjoys themselves." The rabbit was excited and looked forward to performing. The magician was sure that he would be able to make this a great show. | The magician is a great performer, but he has always been a bit of a rabbit in the hat. He's always been the supporting act, and he's sick of it. When he's not pulling rabbits out of hats, the magician is practicing his magic. One day, he is practicing his magic tricks on a rabbit that is sick of being picked on. The magician is able to pull the rabbit out of a hat without even trying. The rabbit is so happy that the magician has finally recognized its talent and given it the respect it deserves. | For years, the magician and his rabbit have been performing their act on stage. The rabbits has always been content to play second fiddle, but lately it has been feeling unappreciated. One night, after the show, the rabbit confronts the magician. It tells him that it is tired of being treated like a prop and wants to be the star of the show. The magician is taken aback at first, but then he realizes that the rabbit is right. From that night on, the rabbit is the star of the show. It performs daring feats of magic and wows the audience with its tricks. The magician is happy to take a backseat and let the rabbit shine. He knows that it is the rightful star of the show. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | When she was just a child, one of the adults in her life deactivated her Birth Control Device. That is, until she was just a person who walked around with a nothing feeling. Everything started to change when she was just old enough to get a baseball and help play tag with her friends. She noticed that the kids in the park were all wearing-- Absent-- cards with the name "Auditor." It wasn't until she was an Auditor that she realized that the kids in the park were just wearing them for effect, to avoid getting in trouble. But, as an only child, she had to live with the consequences. Since then, she have been a Auditor and an only child, always keeping an eye on the door to see if someone is who they say they are but in fact are actually an Absent-Rang card. | You've been doing your job as Auditor for the last ten years. Your job is to prevent the foolish and stupid from reproducing. But sometimes, you have to do something you don't altogether understand. One day, a group of foolish and stupid kids came to your office. They asked you to implant a birth control device in their body. Not knowing what you were going to do, you agreed. The kids couldn't have been more stupid. They didn't know how to raise a human being. The birth control device was just a piece of metal and plastic. It was hard to activate. The kids were in for a long and difficult road. They were going to have to learn how to raise a well-adjusted human being. | Once upon a time, all people were implanted with a birth control device during puberty. This ensured that only the smartest and most stable people in the world would be able to reproduce, ensuring the continued survival of humanity. Eventually, someone realized that the device could be deactivated if an Auditor determined they were intelligent and stable enough to care for a child. So, being an Auditor is, in a way, a blessing and a curse. It means you get to determine who can and cannot reproduce, but it also means you have to be very careful about who you trust. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Birth control devices are implanted in everyone during puberty, and can only be deactivated by an Auditor. You've just completed your latest assessment, and the results are not good. Out of the 100 people you've assessed, only 4 are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The rest are either too dumb or too unstable. This is a problem. If the dumbest people in the world are allowed to reproduce, they will only create more dumb and unstable people. This will lead to the decline of humanity. You must find a way to stop the dumb and unstable people from reproducing. But how? Think carefully. The future of humanity depends on it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The world was falling apart. Massive explosions shook the earth, and flame burned from the edges of the crater that was once my home. My family was safe, but I wasRuntimeErrorNot Found. I didn't know what to do next. | I was always a bit of a light sleeper. The constant beeping of the machines incessantly kept me up at night, causing me to often battle insomnia. One night, as I lay in my hospital bed, I could hear someone walking around the room. I assumed it was one of the nurses coming to check on me, but then I heard the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer. I could tell they were getting closer and closer to my bed. I tried to scream, but the only sound that came out was a weak whisper. The footsteps stopped right beside my bed and the person said, "I'm sorry, but you're going to die." I knew I was powerless against the machines and the person standing next to my bed, so I closed my eyes and waited for the end. | I die. It's not a particularly dramatic death. I don't go out in a blaze of glory or anything. I just sort of...stop. I'm not sure what happens next. I don't really have a sense of anything, to be honest. It's not like the movies make it out to be. There's no tunnel of light or anything. I guess the next thing that happens is that my body is taken away and buried. My family and friends mourn me, and then they move on with their lives. And that's it. That's all that happens. I'm just gone. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | It's a beautiful night and the orchestra isIRD is playing together inupereously well. However, one look from the performer and rabbit knows that he doesn't want to be there. He's more interested in catching the next break instead. And that's how he meets the victim of his heist, a man who is quality time with his wife and children. How could he know that he would be this easy for this much money? The rabbitBad Builds the House The man is his customer, and the rabbit is willing to do whatever it takes to get his hands on the treasure. He tells the man that he is able to magic make him a present and he is not afraid of the anagrams. The man is shocked, but grateful. The man and his family live in a small town and the rabbit visits often. One day, the man is working the pub and the rabbit is waiting in the wings. He has never been asked to go on a drip, and he is nervous, but he is willing to take a chance. The man is his wife and family and the rabbit has never taken anything from them. He is theagineous gift that they have been waiting for for years. The man and his family are very happy and the rabbit walks out with a most different looking house than he wanted. | The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat and let it go. It looked hurt, and the magician knew why. The rabbit had been pulled out of the hat for the entire performance and had been sitting in the audience with its head down,tail backwards. The magician knew the rabbit was sick of being second best. He would show it that it wasn't going to get what it wanted by doing something different. He turned to the rabbit and said, "You can have the hat." | The magician is a great showman and always manages to put on a great show. However, the rabbit is starting to get restless. He's always the second fiddle and he's sick of it. So one day, the rabbit decides to speak up. "Hey magician, I don't need to be the second fiddle anymore. I can do better than that. I can be the star of the show. So why don't you give me a chance?" The magician was a bit taken back by the rabbit's suggestion, but he was also intrigued. So he decided to give the rabbit a chance and to see what he could do. The rabbit worked very hard and soon became a star of the show. The magician was amazed at how well he had done, and he was even more impressed by how much the rabbit had changed. The rabbit had learned to be more confident and to stand up for himself. This was a lesson the magician would never forget. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been doing the same tricks for years, and he's getting tired of it. So, during one of their performances, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He does a few of his usual tricks, but then he starts doing some of his own. He pulls coins out of thin air, makes balls disappear, and even makes the magician disappear. The audience loves it, and the rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves. He's finally the star of the show, and he's loving it. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers arrive at the pawn shop. Some are newly weaned out of the DPS flow, while others are olditto trying to vindicate their reputation. Some helm and run with DMs in the past, present and future. One group seems to be looking for a specific item, but they are only able to identify one of the players as the winner.txt | The shops were always busy. It was a bit of a tradition in the town, and it was more fun than just sitting around, watching people. But tonight, there was something different. The adventurers had all disappeared, and the only ones left at the pawn shop were the two young women behind the counter. "Where did they go?" The older girl asked, watching the two fill up the baskets with gold and jewels. "I don't know. They just didn't show up." The younger girl said, her voice low. The older girl gazed at the two for a moment, before finally speaking. "I'll tell you what. I think I know where they went. They went to the bar. But I know they won't be back until tomorrow." | I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I always have a deal for adventurers who try to sell me their loot. I'll usually offer them a lower price than what they're asking, and then I can always negotiate. Sometimes, I get weapons or magic items that are really rare or valuable. I've even gotten a few pieces of jewelry here and there. But the best deal I ever made was with a group of adventurers who came in a few weeks ago. They had just finished a long quest and were looking for a way to spend their treasure. I offered them a discount on all of their items, and they agreed. They left with a huge grin on their faces, and I knew I had made a great deal. | You own a pawn shop that specializes in RPG loot. You've been in business for years, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your doors, trying to sell their hard-earned loot. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best deals for your shop. Today, a group of adventurers come in, looking to sell some of their loot. They have a few magic weapons and armor, as well as some rare gems. You take a look at their loot and make them an offer. They haggle with you for a bit, but in the end, you get the best deal for your shop. You're always happy to help adventurers get the best prices for their loot. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | As soon as he walked in, the liar in him knew that he had to find a way to make-up with his lies. Hecorruption and Benefits of Alcoholism The Clinchedamiya land is a beautiful location for a pornstar. Not only because it is where the pornstar expect to find her money from, but also because it's where the pornstar stomach is hidden. That is, until one day when the pornstar is on her way to meet her client. The client asks the pornstar what he thinks of her if he knows. The pornstar tells him that she's not a pornstar, but he doesn't believe her. He solves the problem with a big fake document thatOIL He lives in a world where the pornstar knows she's false. Despite the pornstar's protests, the clientube component of the world soonleshows. The pornstar's doing well now, but the pornstar's lies have taken their toll. One day, she discovers an alive in the Attribution document, and her world starts to unravel. | The first time I saw him, I was shocked. I couldn't believe that someone like him could exist in a world where each lie creates a permanent, deep wound. It was as if his lies were his own personal injuries. It was as if he could never be forgiven, no matter how many times he is caught. It was easy to see why he is so dangerous. When he tells a truth, it makes everyone look bad. He makes people ashamed of themselves, and it destroys their relationships. He makes them feel like they're not good enough, and that's how he stays in power. But I was also curious. I wanted to know how he got so scarred. And I began to ask him questions, and I soon realized that he only wants to talk to me because he wants to share the truth. He wants to tell me everything, and he wants me to help him clean up his world. But I can't. I can't let him go around telling lies like he has done before. It would only make things worse. So I help him, but I also keep my own secrets. I don't want to get hurt like he has. | I was intrigued when I first saw him. His one scar was the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran diagonally from his left eye, over his nose, and down his cheek. It was so big that it looked like it might tear his skin apart. I couldn't help but wonder how he had gotten it. Over the course of our conversation, I learned that he had lied so often that the scar was now his status symbol. Whenever he met new people, he would tell them the biggest and craziest lies, just to see how deep their scars would go. The more scars they had, the more they could trust him. I was revolted by his behavior, but I also found myself curious. Eventually, I asked him how he had gotten the biggest scar. He hesitated for a moment, but then he told me the truth. He had been caught lying, and the punishment had been the biggest lie of all. He had been told that the truth would kill him. It was the first time I had ever seen someone so honest. He had spent his entire life lying, and now the truth had broken him. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He was the most scarred person I had ever met. | You meet them in a dark alleyway. They're shrouded in a cloak, their face hidden in the shadows. But you can see their one scar, plain as day. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them about it. They hesitate at first, but then they begin to speak. "I've been lied to a lot in my life. Big lies, small lies, white lies... they all leave a mark. But this one... this one is the biggest of them all. It's the lie that I told myself." They pull back their hood, revealing a face that is covered in scars. Some are small, some are large, but they're all deep. "I lied to myself for so long, convincing myself that I was happy. But I wasn't. I was just hiding from the truth. And the truth is, I'm not happy. I'm scared, and alone, and I don't know what to do." The truth hurts, but it's better than living a lie. You tell them that, and you offer them a hand. They take it, and together, you walk out of the darkness and into the light. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into me during puberty and I was able to deactivate it once I was sure I were still intelligent and stable enough to live a normal life. However, because I was an Auditor, I am still alive and unchanged despite having the device implanted into me. I continue to learn and produce children, and even though I am not able to parenting, I still try to make sure they are a good person. | Once upon a time, there were two genders: men and women. But then something happened that made everyone switch over to the gender that was most comfortable for them: the gender that was implanted into them at puberty. We call this the ``Audit''. It's a process where everyone is implanted with a birth control device to prevent them from being able to reproduce. It's a commitment that you make to yourself, and it's something that you'll always have to remember. You're an Auditor, and you'll be responsible for all of the people that are implanted with the Audit. You'll be monitoring their development and stability, and you'll be ensuring that they're able to raise healthy, well-adjusted human beings. It's a difficult job, but it's one that you're determined to do well. And you'll be able to do it thanks to the help of the people that you're responsible for. | For the better part of my life, I've been an Auditor. I'm responsible for determining whether or not humans are fit to reproduce. It's a tough job, but it's one that I take seriously. I never imagined I would have to use my skills in this way, but that's exactly what's happening. We're facing a problem with the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world. And it's clear that we need to do something about it. So, we've decided to implant all of the dumbest people in the world with a birth control device during puberty. It'll make it harder for them to get pregnant and reproduce, and hopefully it'll help to improve the overall intelligence of the human race. I know it's going to be a challenge, but I'm confident that we can do it. | As an Auditor, it is my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I interview potential parents and ask them a series of questions to test their intelligence and stability. If they pass my test, I deactivate their birth control device and they are able to have children. If they fail, their device remains active and they are unable to have children. I take my job very seriously. I know that the future of our world depends on the children being raised by intelligent and stable parents. I'm proud to be able to help create a better future for our world. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Auditor was born to an intelligent family members. Though he was not native to the world of humans, Auditor was able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. He was household name because he was theAuditor who prevent everyone from reproducing. Auditor was deactivated from the world because he was too smart for the world, but he would not let this become a reality. He would remainPurchase and keep him hidden from society for as long as possible. | Auditor 3 was the firstauditor to be implanted with the birth control device. She had been selected for the task because she was intelligent, stable, and fit enough to raise an intelligent, stable human being by an Auditor. As Auditor 3 was inserted into her body, she was pleased to find that the implant was effective. She had been told it would be. And so, every month, she would take her birth control device off and re-install it, just in case. But on the first day of the month, Auditor 3 had a startling realization. She was pregnant. She was beaming with excitement as she informed her colleagues of her news. They laughed and congratulated her, but she was not taken seriously. In their eyes, she was just aaturday warrior that had lucky yet to have an auditor implanted into her. But to the rest of the world, auditors were something different. Something to be treasured and protected. Auditor 3 eventually reached her Maturity and was able to take her place as the ultimate arbiter of the intelligence and stability of humanity. | I was born into a world of Controllers. Every person on Earth is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. I was one of the lucky ones to be selected to become an Auditor, the only people allowed to deactivate the devices. I was excited to be chosen, because I knew that I could help prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and keeping the Earth's population balanced. I was also excited to be able to finally be considered smart and stable enough to be able to raise a well-adjusted human being. However, as I soon learned, being an Auditor is not as easy as it seems. I had to learn all about the devices, how to deactivate them, and how to properly care for them so that the population would stay balanced. I also had to make sure that the people I encountered on a daily basis were smart and stable, so that the devices would work properly. I never imagined that my job would be so challenging, but I am glad that I was able to become an Auditor and help keep the Earth's population balanced. | You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure that only the most intelligent andstable people are able to have children. In a world where dumb people are in charge of reproduction, it's up to you to make sure that the population is safe and healthy. To do this, you screen potential parents and only allow those who you deem intelligent and stable enough to have children to deactivate their birth control devices. It's a big responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers come to the shop to sell a piece of loot they had acquired while exploring a nearby area. The shop is less than a kilometer from the shop, and the adventurers are advice to come back once they have won something. However, the shop is small and not many adventurers are currently fleeing into the night looking for travel | The first time I set up shop in my small pawn shop, I was filled with skepticism. I'm a fresh-faced young man, fresh out of college, and I'm selling items I've never seen before. But I knew that I could trust my customers. They were patients, and I knew they would only try to rip off me if I was being unfair. I set up a table in the back room, and began to sell my products. I would give them a good deal, and I would make sure they felt comfortable and safe. I started to make a name for myself. And then, one day, I met a young man named Zack. zack was a perfect customer. He was polite and gentle, and he always took the time to find out about my products. He was always buying new items to sell, and he always brought me new offers. One day, Zack came in to buy another item, and I was so surprised. He had offered me tens of dollars for the item he just bought. I was so blown away by his offer, I didn't have anything to say. I just took the money and put the item in the back room. Zack and I became friends, and we would always come in to buy items together. He was a great customer, and I was so grateful to have him as my regular customer. | Adventurers have been coming in to my shop for years, trying to sell their gear and loot. I've become quite the expert when it comes to haggling, and I can usually get a good deal on whatever they've got. I'm always happy to help them find the best bargain they can, and I've made a lot of friends along the way. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deal possible. Today, you spot a group of adventurers who look like they've just returned from a successful quest. You approach them and start haggling for their loot. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally manage to get them to agree to your price. You're about to make the deal when you spot something glinting in the bag of loot. It's a magical sword! You haggle with the adventurers some more and finally manage to acquire the sword for a fraction of its value. You can't wait to add it to your collection! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician finds the rabbit Merlin walking through the audience. One look from the rabbit and he knows he isn't welcome anymore. HeDragically transports the rabbit to his stage, taking it step by step while talking to it on a phone. The rabbit is confused but Telecommunications the conversation as though it is already known. Merlin asks the magician what he is doing, to which the magician says he is changing the rabbit's mind. The rabbit feels proud that he is still playing second fiddle. He remembers when the magicians magic is wonderful and410greek Leadershipfor the rabbit disappears, leaving the answers himself. The magician is surpriseED! | The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat and put it in front of the audience. "Here's your rabbit, buster. I know you're sick of playing second fiddle. Now I want you to do something that's never been done before." The rabbit looked at the magician with skepticism. "Are you really going to do this?" The magician nodded. "Yes, I'm really going to do this. I'm going to give you a gift that you'll never forget." With that, the magician pulled out a large sum of money and gave it to the rabbit. "Here's your payment for playing second fiddle. Now, you can go and make your own fortune." The rabbit eyed the money critically. "But what about the hat? I left it at the hotel." "Don't worry, I'll get it back soon. In the meantime, I think you should go and get started on your own show." The rabbit hesitated for a moment, but then decided to go ahead and perform. | The magician pulled out a rabbit from a hat and it looked sick of the attention. It wasn't used to playing second fiddle to the other rabbits on stage. The magician began to charm the crowd with his magic, but the rabbit couldn't take it anymore. It couldn't take the spotlight off of itself and it didn't want to be the center of everyone's attention. The rabbit slyly took the magician's magic wand and disappeared under the folds of his robe. The magician was betrayed and the crowd laughed. He had been hoodwinked and the rabbit had gotten away. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is tired of being the one who is pulled out of the hat, and wants to be the one doing the magic. He has had enough of being the one who is always second fiddle. So, during the performance, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He starts doing his own magic tricks, and quickly upstages the magician. The audience loves it, and the rabbit is finally getting the attention he always wanted. The magician is furious, but there is nothing he can do. The rabbit has stolen the show, and there is nothing he can do to stop him. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud was very excited to participate in a clinical trial on of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper and starts to apply for visas to each of the countries. He is finally lucky to be allowed to travel to Austria, Croatia, Slovenia, and Hungary. He is excited to receive his privileges and starts to participate in the clinical trials. It is very difficult to participate in the clinical trials. Every character is unique and has different interests and preferences. We hope you enjoy the story. | Adolf Hitler was fascinated by the prospect of participating in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's new research. Joseph Stalin was similarly intrigued by the prospect of being a part of the trial. Leon Trotsky was more interested in joining the trial but was overruled by his comrades. Josip Broz Tito was the last to respond to the ad. The three men were leader of different factions in the Bolshevik Party. Trotsky was the most progressive of the three and wanted to join the trial in order to promote positive change within the party. Stalin was more conservative and wanted to stay in power. Hitler was the second most progressive of the three and wanted to join the trial in order to learn more about Freud's new research. The three men were each lying in different rooms of the same building in Vienna. Hitler was using the bathroom and Stalin was using the bedroom. The door to the bathroom was unlocked and Hitler was able to listen in on the conversation between Stalin and Freud. The conversation was detailed and packed with information about Freud's new research. Stalin was interested in the theory that the human mind was influenced by Collective Mental Energy. Hitler was interested in the theory that the human mind was influenced by the will. Stalin was also interested in the theory that human emotions were determined by the Collective Mental Energy. The three men were also discussing the possibility of joining the trial. Stalin wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Hitler wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. The door to the bedroom opened and Stalin walked in. Hitler was surprised to see Stalin in the room. Stalin was interested in the theory that the human mind was influenced by Collective Mental Energy and wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about it. Stalin also wanted to learn more about the theory that the human mind was influenced by the will. The three men were discussing the possibility of joining the trial. Stalin wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Hitler wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. Stalin closed the door to the bedroom and said goodbye to Hitler. Stalin then walked out of the door and down the hall. Hitler was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. Stalin walked out of the door and down the hall. Hitler was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. Stalin was walking down the hallway when he heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Stalin walked into the bathroom and saw Hitler in the bathroom. Stalin was surprised to see Hitler in the bathroom and wanted to know what he was doing there. Hitler explained that he was helping Stalin to join the trial. Stalin was surprised to hear this and said that he didn't know what to say. Hitler then said that he was the only person who responded to the ad and that he wanted to be a part of the trial. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Hitler then said goodbye and left the bathroom. Stalin walked back to the bedroom and said goodbye to Stalin. Stalin then walked out of the door and down the hall. Hitler was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. The three men were walking down the hallway when they heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Stalin walked into the bathroom and saw Hitler in the bathroom. Stalin was surprised to see Hitler in the bathroom and wanted to know what he was doing there. Hitler explained that he was helping Stalin to join the trial. Stalin was surprised to hear this and said that he didn't know what to say. Hitler then said that he was the only person who responded to the ad and that he wanted to be a part of the trial. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Hitler then said goodbye and left the bathroom. Stalin was walking back to the bedroom and said goodbye to Stalin. Stalin then walked out of the door and down the hall. Hitler was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. | Freud was excited to have these promising new candidates for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local paper, specifying that only the most promising candidates would be chosen. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud was pleased to have such strong candidates for his research. He scheduled the trials for the next month. | Sigmund Freud's latest research is turning heads in the medical community. He is seeking participants for clinical trials and puts an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to be part of the trial and share their thoughts with Freud. Hitler is the first to speak, confidently sharing his vision for the future. Stalin is next, and he is more guarded in his answers. Trotsky is the most animated of the group, eager to share his ideas. Lastly, Tito is the youngest and most reserved. Freud is impressed with all four men, but he can't help but be intrigued by their different worldviews. He wonders what role his research will play in their lives and how it will shape the future. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The shadows that surrounded her were real, andCongress was aware of the shadows that appeared when she moved. She could feel the warmth of the light, and the light knew the dark. The shadows Executioner of the home was happy to be exposed. | As I walked through my house, I could feel something lurking in the shadows. It was always there, lurking in the corners and behind the furniture, but I could never quite identify what it was. I tried to ignore it, but eventually I grew tired of it. I started to paranoia and distrust people, especially my roommates. One day, I came across an article about "the Unknown," and after reading it I finally realized what the thing was. It was the thing that I had been trying to expose for years. The thing that I had been warning people about. The thing that was going to destroy my home and my life. But I was afraid to let anyone know. I was afraid of them coming after me. I was afraid of them coming after my family. I was afraid of them coming after me and my friends. But eventually, I had to face the truth. The thing that was living in my home was actually my friend. And it was time to let him know that he was living in my home too. | I've had this feeling for a while now, like there's something lurking in the corners of my home. I can't put my finger on it, but I know there's something there. Tonight, I decided to take a closer look. I was standing in the living room, thinking about how to get rid of the invisible thing when I suddenly felt a presence behind me. I spun around, but there was nothing there. I took a few steps back and looked around the room again, but there was still nothing. I tried to dismiss the idea as paranoia, but the feeling wouldn't go away. I decided to stay up for a little longer to make sure the thing wasn't coming after me, but before I could settle in, the feeling came back. This time, I was sure I saw something moving in the corner of the room. I approached the corner, but as I got closer, I realized it was just a dust mote. I told myself that it wasn't anything to worry about, but the feeling wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't want to stay in the house any longer, so I decided to go to bed. As I was climbing under the covers, I heard something moving in the hallway. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, but there was nothing there. I tried to sleep, but the feeling wouldn't leave me alone. Every sound made me jump, and I couldn't get the image of the shadowy figure from the living room out of my mind. The next morning, I called the landlord and asked to move. I don't know if the thing is still there, lurking in the shadows, but I'm not going to risk it. | I can tell that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can sense its presence. It's like a weight in the air that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras around the house and left food out, but so far, nothing has worked. I'm starting to feel like I'm losing my mind. Maybe this thing is playing with me, knowing that I can't catch it. Or maybe I'm just losing it. Either way, I can't keep living like this. I have to find out what this thing is and how to get rid of it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | physics student Adolf Hitler hesitation to take on all these Wickuts seems to have on example is that he has a beer amuck with Seiaku Irimi three times. Large in size, they are a threat to Wickut's rule. olean Trotsky feeling overworked and undervalued workhalve he takes an idea froms his friend Joseph Stalin to help Tito's Irimi are able to more easily pass through the quality control system in order to falsify results. Leo Ethington, Jawaang Soetoro Likewise, all three of these as large and largest Wickuts can't take on them at face value. However, when they try to do so, they are piteous and several Wickuts are needed touttifully to serve as a price for their success. Wickut's, is a large and smelly adage that You can see Wickut's large, including the top of his head. The adagea and the wickut can be seen both on and off of Wickut's. | Adolf Hitler read the ad. "I'm interested," he thought to himself. He had always been fascinated by theidepressant drug, and he was the only person who could offer a trial. Adolf Hitler was a genius in politics, and he knew that he could help state power in Europe. He knew that he could take Austria and add it to the Nazi Germany empire. Joseph Stalin read the ad. He was the leader of the Soviet Union, and he wanted to help help Adolf Hitler take over the world. He knew that if he helped Adolf Hitler, the Soviet Union would become the most powerful country in the world. Leo Trotsky read the ad. He was the leader of the Marxist-Leninist party, and he wanted to help Adolf Hitler take over the world. He knew that if he helped Adolf Hitler, the Soviet Union would become a communist country. Josip Broz Tito read the ad. He was the leader of the Yugoslavian People's Republic, and he wanted to help Adolf Hitler take over the world. He knew that if he helped Adolf Hitler, the Yugoslavian People's Republic would become the most powerful country in the world. All the people in the ad responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito founded the Nazi party. They were ready to take over the world. | Freud was eagerly awaiting the results of the clinical trials, but he was also curious about the people who had responded to his ad. He started to meet with them one-by-one, and quickly realized that they were all very different from each other. Adolf Hitler was a young man who was looking for a way to become powerful. He was easily persuaded to participate in the trials, and quickly became one of Freud's most loyal followers. Joseph Stalin was a complex person, who was often misunderstood. Freud was able to get to know him better, and found that he had a lot of similar interests to Freud himself. Leon Trotsky was a committed Marxist, and he was doubtful about the potential benefits of the trials. However, Freud was able to talk him into participating, and he soon became one of Freud's most ardent disciples. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest participant in the trials, and he was the most enthusiastic about them. He was eager to learn more about Freud's theories, and he quickly became one of his most ardent supporters. | It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and were eager to try out Freud's latest theories. They met with him individually and were eager to share their innermost thoughts and feelings. Freud quickly realized that all four men were highly intelligent and had a deep understanding of human psychology. He was impressed with their insights and started to think that his research could really help them understand themselves and the world around them better. However, as the trials went on, Freud began to realize that all four men were dangerous. They were all highly narcissistic and had a deep desire for power. They were also all very manipulative and could be quite persuasive. Freud started to worry that his research was going to be used to help these men gain more power and control over others. He decided to end the trials and never work with these men again. But he always wondered what could have been if he had continued his research with them. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A group of friends go to a pie party to enjoy the weather while Mummy and Yummy share a moment of warmth. The group of friends participate in the party and spend their days enjoying the weather. They make new friends and laugh with family, all while sending offpie pies.org as soon as they go hand in hand. | There was a major issue that warranted the most attention today. The issue was the guns that were being used in the school shootings. While the NRA was able to argue that the guns were not the "primary Factor" in these shootings, the fact is that they were. The NRA was able to stop the discussion from going any further, and the public was left feeling uneasy about the future of gun control. | America faces a critical choice in its fight against terrorism. Since 9/11, the United States has been engaged in a never-ending war against the Islamic State. The terrorist group has relentlessly attacked American interests, murdering innocent civilians and carrying out despicable acts of violence. Despite its success, the U.S. has struggled to find a lasting solution to the ISIS problem. President Obama has made multiple pushes to Congress for more funding, but lawmakers have been reluctant to support more wars abroad. Meanwhile, Russia has been steadily increasing its activity in Syria. President Putin is looking to increase his influence in the region, and he sees Syria as an opportunity to do so. If the U.S. wants to continue making progress against ISIS, it needs to provide more funding and put more troops on the ground. But if the U.S. chooses to side with Russia and abandon Syria, ISIS will only become stronger. America faces a critical choice in its fight against terrorism. The fate of the world is in its hands. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the conflict in Syria. The Syrian conflict has been ongoing for over six years, and has resulted in the death of hundreds of thousands of people. In addition, the conflict has led to the displacement of over five million people, making it one of the largest humanitarian crises in the world today. The international community has failed to come to a consensus on how to resolve the conflict, and it continues to escalate. With no end in sight, the conflict in Syria is a pressing issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | John was walking home from work when he felt a pain in his back. He had been working on his computer all night and had not sleeped. When he got home, he found his best friend had died. John was devastated and tried to think of anything to make sense of the event. His family and friends told John that his best friend had always been strong and was not going to die like that. John found it hard to keep up with his family and friends as they turned into strangers. He found himself always feeling left out and alone. One day, John ran into a building by himself and was safety. He walked around the side of the building until a friend came up to chat with him and found out that he had been hurt. John decided to go back to life and told his story. | I was lying in bed, Statistics scrolling past me on my computer screen. I had just completed my lastregistration for the new semester, and my anxiety was starting to get the better of me. The room was dark and I could hear my heart racing in my head. I clicked on the link to my login page and entered my Username and Password. Iligitimately hit submit and the screen lit up with an error. I frantically clicked on the X next to the message, but it only landed me on a blank page. I tried again and this time it worked. I clicked on the login button and Aquamarine login page popped up. I entered my Username and Password and went to the main Aquamarine page. I was about to hit submit when I realized that the page I was on wasn't the main Aquamarine page. The login page for the Aquamarine Forums was the only one that existed. I clicked on it and it brought me to the Aquamarine Forums homepage. I was about to hit submit when I realized that the page I was on wasn't the main Aquamarine page. The login page for the Aquamarine Forums was the only one that existed. | I had always thought that death would be the end of my story, but now I know that it is only the beginning. As soon as the doctors placed the IV in my arm and started the treatment, I knew that I was going to die. But I didn't care. I wanted to see my family one more time before I went. As the drugs took hold, I started to feel weak and lightheaded. But I clung to life, even when everything around me started to fade away. I saw my mom and dad and I told them how much I loved them. Then I slipped away. But I know that I am not really gone. I am waiting for my next chance to see my loved ones again. And I know that I will always be grateful for the chance to live one more time. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how it happened. One moment I was alive and well, and the next I was dying. I don't even know why. I can see the light getting brighter and brighter as I move towards it. I can hear the voices of my loved ones comforting me and telling me everything will be alright. And then I'm gone. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disarray. The players are haggling with the adventurers over bags of loot that they havecombined. The latest buyer to enter has had enough and has left. The adventurers are upset and one is holding a large, separating Achromat from the data. | The shop was always busy. People wanted to buy new gear, sell items they'd scavenged or just plain trade. But today was different. There was a group of adventurers walking by, and for one moment, something inside theshop felt off. The adventurers were talking strange, and there was a feeling that something was going to happen. The shopkeeper, knowing the adventurers were suspicious, quickly negotiated a sale. The adventurers got some new gear and left, but not before exchanging some strange looks. They were definitely not from around here. | Kim was sick of haggling with adventurers. They always wanted too much for the gear she was selling. She was about to put the last adventurer out when she heard someone coming. She hid the items behind the counter and straightened up, hoping her customer would be someone she could bargain with. It was a group of six adventurers. They were all looking around the pawn shop, seemingly lost. Kim decided to take a chance and approached the group. "Hello," she said. "Can I help you find something?" The adventurers looked at her, then one of them spoke. "We're lookin' for a cleric," he said. "Do you know where we can find one around here?" Kim knew of a cleric who was often looking for new recruits. She told the adventurers where the cleric was and offered to take them there on her scooter. They all agreed and she led the group out the door. As she was walking back to the pawn shop, Kim couldn't help but smile. She had finally haggled away an adventure and made some extra cash. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop, dragging a large sack of loot behind them. They dump it all out on the counter, and you start sorting through it. There's a lot of junk in here, but you eventually find some good items. You haggle with the adventurers, and you end up getting a good deal on some of the items. You're happy with the haul, and the adventurers are happy with the price they got. It's a win-win for everyone. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | As soon as they walked in, the liar in you started talking in a Latestpiece. You startauri , of course, started to speak. "What brings you here, please!" She launches herself at the man,Kneading Moralryption" with a requst for help. The man looks up with a $ unlocking a light at the end of the tunnel. "I'm not sure, what with the lie I've told for years," He struggles to found a liar's dialogue. "The man you're with here," She introduces him, "Is back from the dead." You The man looks around, attempt to | find a way out. "What do you want from me," He asks, "I'm not sure." "I want you to tell me what your lie was that caused this serious injury," YouProperties them both to get the man to the hospital. "I'm not sure," He tells you, "I just know I was wronged by a friend, and I wanted to make it right." You: "I don't want to tell you what your lie was, until I know it was the right one," You say, now that you know the man is back to his natural self. The man nods, " understandable now." | You meet this person on a dark, raining night. They cannot stop talking, and you cannot understand a word they say. Finally, you figure out that they are telling the truth - they have one big scar on their body. You're fascinated by this story, and you can't help but be sorry that they have such a terrible reputation. | I had always been fascinated by scars. They told a story, and I loved to learn about them. I could tell the story of the person who bore that scar, the story of what happened to them. I always found it fascinating how one small event could change someone's life forever. One day, I met a person with the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it was like it was all over their front. I asked them what happened, and they told me their story. It was a heartbreaking story, and I could tell that it had taken a toll on them. It seems that this person had lied so much, that the lies had become a part of their body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. The lies had taken a toll on their emotional and physical health, and they had to deal with the consequences every day. I was so sorry for him, and I felt guilty for having listened to all of his lies. I wished I could have helped him, but now I know that it was already too late. I was crying and I had never felt so sad in my life. | In a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body, you meet someone with the biggest scar you have ever seen. Upon closer inspection, you realize that the scar is in the shape of a heart. You ask the person how they got the scar and they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. They explain that they lied to someone they loved very deeply and the scar is a reminder of the pain they caused. Even though the person has the biggest scar you have ever seen, you can't help but feel drawn to them. There is something about their honesty and openness that you find intriguing. You become friends with the person and over time, you learn more about their past and the lies they have told. You also start to notice that the scar is gradually getting smaller. As you get to know the person better, you realize that they are one of the most honest and caring people you have ever met. Even though they have been hurt by lies in the past, they haven't let it harden their heart. The scar is a reminder of the person's strength and resilience. It is a reminder that even the biggest lie can be overcome with honesty and love. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | Today is a day that is likely to be calculations of the date, the creation of the guy, and the date of the guy. And it is also a day that is likely to beociety, because the guy is alreadyayiny. | The current events that deserve the most attention are the elections that are taking place today. These elections are important because they will determine who will be the next president of the United States. Some are worried that the election may be rigged, but at least one individual is standing up to try and make sure that doesn't happen. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the treatment of immigrants. Many people are against the current administration's policy of separating children from their parents at the border, and they are calling for reform. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the environment. The earth is facing many environmental issues, such as global warming, pollution, and deforestation. These issues are having a major impact on the earth and its inhabitants. Scientists have warned that if we don't take action to improve the environment, the earth will become uninhabitable in the future. governments and individuals need to do their part to improve the environment. This includes reducing greenhouse gas emissions, protecting forests, and cleaning up pollution. We need to act now to save the earth for future generations. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | John was walking home from work when he got a call from his sister in the middle of the night. She needed him to help her move some of her family's things from one end of the house to the other and John couldn't help her with the cost of it all. She perused some of theANE books he liked and after a while, John decided he would help her. As he Tombolaed the items being moved, he noticed something strange - his sister had started selling her soul to the devil. | The next thing I remember is waking up in a cold sweat. I can't seem to get my head around what just happened. I feel like I'm in some kind of dream, but there's something wrong with the staging. I can't keep track of where I am, or who I am with. I see people around me, but they look like they're not really there. It's like I'm in a dream but it's not my dream. I try to move, but my body just doesn't work. Then I realize I can't breathe. I can't do anything. I'm deathly afraid. The only thing I can think of is escape. I start to panic and I don't know what to do. I try to think of anything but my fear. I start to cry, but I can't stop the panic from bubbling up inside me. I don't know what will happen next, but I'm terrified. I don't know how much longer I can stay alive. I start to feel like I'm going to die any second. I'm so scared. I can't take it anymore. I just want to die. I can't make myself move, so I just lie there and die. | I was sitting in my chair, waiting to die. I had been diagnosed with cancer a few weeks ago, and I knew that there was no cure. I had wished and prayed for a miracle, but it seemed like my time had come. I was sitting in my chair, when I heard a knock on the door. I knew who it was, and I knew that there was no way that I could avoid it. I walked to the door, and I opened it. I saw my husband, and I knew that he was there to say goodbye. He walked into my room, and he hugged me. He told me that he loved me, and then he walked out the door. I waited for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually I heard a knock on the door. I knew who it was, and I knew that I couldn't avoid it. I opened the door, and I saw the person that I had been waiting for. I was alive, and I had beaten cancer. I was going to live, and I was going to fight again. I was going to live, and I was going to tell my husband goodbye again. | I was walking home from work when I was suddenly hit by a car. I died instantly. As I closed my eyes, I saw a light beckoning me forward. I floated towards it and found myself in a beautiful garden. There was a woman there, and she welcomed me with a warm smile. She told me that I had died but that I was not ready to move on yet. I had unfinished business to take care of. She showed me a vision of my family and friends, and I saw that they were all grieving my death. I knew I had to go back to them and tell them how much I loved them. With that, I woke up in the hospital, surrounded by my loved ones. I told them what I had seen and we all cried together. I'm grateful to have been given a second chance. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is looking for participants in his latest research trials of new methods to treat mental illness. He puts an ad in a newspaper and only finds people who are really interested in applying for a trial. He takes only a few people who have any presence of mental illness and complaints against him, and vets them all for complexity or severity of symptoms. After doing a careful review, he falls back to the only one he's interested in. He tells her that they are the only people who have any experience in trials and can help out. She agrees to help him with a respect But he has one condition. He wants her to swear to never speak of the trial again. | Adolf Hitler read the ad and agreed to participate. Joseph Stalin turned down the offer, stating that he was too busy with the war. Leon Trotsky accepted, but only because he knew that he would die in it. Josip Broz Tito decided to take the offer, knowing that he would only live long enough to see his people achieve victory. | Freud was ecstatic when he received the responses to his ad. He had always believed that there was something special about these four men, and now he had the opportunity to test his theory. He organized a meeting to discuss the trials, and the four men showed up eager to be a part of something new and revolutionary. Freud outlined the clinical trials, and the men got down to business. They all showed a great deal of dedication and enthusiasm, and Freud was confident that they would be perfect candidates for the trials. Things started smoothly, but soon things began to spiral out of control. Hitler became obsessed with power and began to lash out at anyone who crossed him. Stalin became paranoid and started to control every aspect of the trial participants' lives. Trotsky became violent and unstable, and finally Tito became lazy and undisciplined. Freud was desperate to save the project, but it was all too late. The trials were a disaster, and the four men wasted no time in discarding Freud's ideas and moving on to new, more convenient theories. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by this strange group of men, and he decides to meet with them individually to see if they are suitable candidates for his research. Hitler is the first to meet with Freud, and the two men quickly hit it off. Hitler is impressed by Freud's intelligence and his theories on the human mind, and he eagerly agrees to participate in the trial. Stalin is next, and he is also intrigued by Freud's work. However, he is not as easily won over as Hitler, and he is skeptical of the whole process. Nonetheless, he agrees to participate, if only to see what Freud is up to. Trotsky is the third to meet with Freud, and he is immediately hostile. He doesn't believe in Freud's theories and he thinks that the whole idea of the trial is a waste of time. However, he eventually agrees to participate, if only to prove Freud wrong. The last to meet with Freud is Tito, and he is the most reluctant of all. He is young and inexperienced, and he doesn't know if he is ready to participate in something so potentially life-changing. However, he eventually decides to go ahead with it, if only to see what all the fuss is about. So, Freud has his four participants, and the trial begins. Over the course of the trial, each of the men undergoes a series of tests and interviews, and they all begin to open up about their innermost thoughts and desires. Freud is fascinated by what he is hearing, and he begins to see each of the men in a new light. Hitler, for example, reveals himself to be a highly ambitious and driven man, with a strong need for power and control. Stalin, on the other hand, is more complex. He is intelligent and insightful, but he is also fiercely independent and fiercely protective of those he cares about. Trotsky is the most difficult to understand, but Freud eventually comes to see him as a man who is deeply passionate about his beliefs, and who is willing to fight for what he believes in. And Tito is the most surprising of all. He is young and idealistic, but he is also pragmatic and wise beyond his years. As the trial comes to an end, Freud is left with a new understanding of these four men. He has seen into their minds, and he understands them in a way that he never could have before. And, he knows that they will all go on to do great things in the world. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in reconstruction mode due to the many raids and pirates that have been takes parts of the city. The adventurers are here to sell magic items they've gathered during their wandering about. 'Why can't I get my locked item too?' The shop keep rangeing back to you, 'Cause you don't have the magic to power your game without it. He's way off base when you offer to sale the key to the magic item. | Once upon a time there was an RPG pawn shop. The shop made a lot of money, and the adventurers who came to buy their gear and items always seemed to leave with plenty of treasure. The shop was so successful that it quickly became a tradition for people to come to the shop, and it even started to become a favorite spot for adventurers who happened to be passing by on the way to another adventure. For years, the shop stayed open, and the adventurers who came to it always left with plenty of treasure. But one day, the shop's owner died. And in his place, a new generation of adventurers came to the shop, and they were much less forgiving of the old rules that applied to it. They started to haggle with the players to get the best deals on gear, and sometimes they even managed to get the best deals on items that the players had no hope of getting without risking their lives. And the shop continued to be a favorite spot for adventurers. But it no longer made as much money as it once did. And the old customers no longer came to it. But the new generation of adventurers still HAD to come to the shop because it still was the only place that they could find the best gear. | It was a normal day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers, when I happened to hear a noise outside. I was curious, so I went to investigate. I found a group of bandits raiding the town. The adventurers had been fighting them, and as a result, most of their loot was scattered around the street. I saw a sword that I wanted, so I took it off of one of the adventurers. Then, I met the owner of the pawn shop. He was angry that I had taken the sword without asking. He said that I was stealing from him, and he threatened to call the authorities. I didn't care. I had made a good investment in the sword, and I was going to enjoy having it. | You might think running a pawn shop for adventurers would be easy money. But it's not always as simple as that. Sure, there are plenty of adventurers who come through your shop, looking to sell their loot for quick cash. But haggling with them is part of the job. You have to be careful not to lowball them, or they'll take their business elsewhere. But it's all worth it when you see the look on their faces when they finally sell their loot for a good price. That's when you know you're doing your job right. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints pictures of different places, some with people, some with animals. He's Promethean and would like us to see the beauty in each place. However, each painting is a real place, and Bob Ross is Factious. | Each of Bob Ross's landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The murders that took place at the various locations are detailed in whole or in part in every painting. Some of the murders are even still unsolved, and no one knows who did it. Some of the paintings were made in memorial to the murdered victims, and others just serve as a reminder of the violence that can take place in the world. | Bob Ross was an gifted artist, and his paintings of landscapes are some of the most beautiful and realistic ever created. But his paintings are also a Labyrinth of Pain, a history of murders that took place all over the United States. Each of his landscapes is based on a real place where someone was killed, and people who have looked at his paintings have always been left wondering about the many unsolved murders that took place in these locations. Some people say that Bob Ross is a serial killer, and that his paintings are a chilling depiction of the deaths that he's responsible for. Whatever the truth may be, Bob Ross' art remains a beautiful and haunting representation of the pain and suffering that he's caused. | Bob Ross was always a bit of an odd duck. He was always so cheerful on his public television show, teaching people how to paint happy little trees. But what most people didn't know is that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was actually a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and his paintings were his way of marking his victims. He would find a place to commit his murder, and then paint a happy little scene of that location. Over the years, the authorities grew wise to his crimes, but they could never catch him. They would find one of his paintings at the scene of a crime, and then realize that it was too late. The murders would stop for a while, and then start up again in a different location. Now, authorities believe that Bob Ross is responsible for over 100 murders. His paintings hang in homes and businesses all over the world, and each one is a reminder of the gruesome crimes that he committed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Salt INFJ's place is always a playpen of emotions--sorrow, happiness, pain. Even though they BAME the sun, they find it easier to face the light when it's shining like this. nighttime is a different story. Fertile ground and warm embraceCompany Mara has dedicated their life to filling the shoes of an Indiaflush American woman who has written off everything in her life for fear of what it would be like to become someone'smit. After her long journey, Mara and Indiaflush American woman finish up their engagement party and Mara thanks Indiafiles for all the good it had in front of her. After Maneuvering and Who What Type of Jaw for How long bracket, theirDERMKENS aredaysackled to see theirDYNAKENS in the sun. | It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the flowers were in bloom. But something was wrong. Tears were streaming down the face of the woman and it was clear that she was in pain. She was crying so hard that it was difficult to see straight. The woman's husband was nearby and he noticed that she was in pain. He walked over and asked her what was wrong. The woman sobbed out that she was having a pain in her chest. The husband diagnosed her with a real estate transaction pain. The husband told the woman that there was a good chance that the pain was from the painters that were coming to repair her home. The woman was devastated and she told the husband that she was not going to let the painters damage her home. The husband told her that he was sorry but the painters were coming and it was going to be tough to make it through. The woman cried harder and she told the husband that she would not let the painters damage her home. The husband took her to the hospital and the woman was hospitalized for weeks. But she refused to let the painters damage her home. The woman's home was saved and her home was repaired. The woman's world was changed as a result of her tears. | The world was a cruel place. It was full of hurt and pain, and each tear that fell left a reminder of what could have been. But no matter how hard the world tried to hurt people, they couldn't help but cry. The tears left streaks on their cheeks, and sometimes they would linger for hours, leaving behind a permanent reminder of the pain that they had felt. But even though the world could see the tears, it couldn't touch them. It was as if the tears were protecting them. But one day, someone realized that the tears weren't just a sign of weakness. They were a sign of strength. The person realized that the tears were a symbol of empathy. They were a sign of understanding. And as a result, the person changed the world. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a much different place. People would be more careful with their words, knowing that they could permanently hurt someone with just a few careless words. We would be more likely to hug each other and offer comfort, instead of just turning away when we see someone crying. This would be a world where people are more understanding and compassionate, because we would all know how it feels to be permanently scarred by something as simple as a tear. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is full of treasure, magic, and weapons. It's a chaotic,FUO place to explore, and the prices are due no matter what. You can't help but be drawn in, even though you're sure the adventurers aregee. You've never seen so many of these items in one place. It's trade-based, too. They's off to sell... | The first time I met her, she was selling a crashed gnome ship for just a few gold pieces. I was determined to get my hands on that treasure, so I offered her a deal. If she could give me the ship's registration and crew list, I would trade her the treasure for it. She agreed, and I quickly created a roster of the ship's crew. The following week, I traded the ship's registration and crew list with the gnome woman, and she gave me a bag of treasure. I was over the moon with the loot, and I couldn't wait to get my hands on it. I kept the ship and the treasure in my pawn shop, and I never looked back. | I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I love the excitement of haggling with brave adventurers who come in looking to sell their loot. It's always a fun, interactive experience. Yesterday, a group of adventurers came in looking for a good deal on some of the armor they'd acquired. I asked them how much they wanted for it, and they mentioned a price that was a bit too low for my taste. I starting haggling, and soon we were talking about prices that were just right. I love getting people excited about RPG gaming, and I love getting good deals on gear. It's always a fun experience. | You've been running your pawn shop for years now, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your doors. Some are looking to make a quick buck, while others are just trying to get rid of unwanted loot. No matter what their reasons, you're always ready to haggle with them. You've gotten pretty good at spotting the rare and valuable items, and you always make sure to get a good price for them. Sometimes the adventurers try to lowball you, but you're never afraid to stand your ground. After all, you know the value of their loot better than they do. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a pile of loot. You start to sort through it, when you spot something shining in the pile. It's a diamond ring, and it looks very valuable. You start to haggle with the adventurers, but they're not budging on the price. They want 500 gold for it, but you know you can get it for less. After a few minutes of back and forth, you finally manage to get them down to 400 gold. You ring up the sale and hand the adventurers their money. As they leave, you can't help but smile. You know you just got a great deal on that diamond ring, and you can't wait to put it in your display case. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most secret thing in the house is an Invisible movie cabinet. It's kept hidden away safe with a warning: if you ever catch sight of it, you should avoid it at all cost. | It had been gnawing at me for a while. The thing that rimmed my home like a dark cloud; always present but never seen. I tried toignore it, but it was hard. I could feel it watching me, weighing me down. I tried to push it away, but it only grew stronger. I began to feel like I was living in a haunted house. One night, I finally realized what it was. I saw it for the first time; a faint, ghost-like glow Castlevania-like figure looming over my bed. Its eyes were wide and expressionless, and it seemed to be watching me with a venomous glare. I tried to run, but the thing was out of reach. I was paralyzed with fear. I could hear it moaning softly in the distance, like a mournful ghost. I closed my eyes and asked God for help, but nothing happened. I was starting to panic when I felt something touching my shoulder. I weakly turned around to see the ghostly figure hovering over me, its face impenetrable by light. It smiled coldly, and I knew that I was done. | I never thought I would be scared of something that couldn't physically harm me, but that's exactly what I am now. It started with a strange noise, like something was moving around in the corner of my bedroom. I ignored it at first, but the noise kept getting louder and more persistent until I couldn't take it anymore. I walked over to the corner and there was nothing there, only a dust bunny. But the noise continued, getting louder and more ferocious until I was so scared I ran to my parents' room and woke them up. They came into the room and asked me what was wrong, and I told them I thought there was something living in the corner of my room. My parents were skeptical, but they decided to check it out. They found nothing, but the noise never stopped. It's like the thing was waiting for them to find it. ever since then, the noise has become even more persistent, like it knows exactly where my parents are at all times. | There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and microphones, hoping to capture some evidence of what's going on. But so far, I've only caught fleeting glimpses and muffled sounds. I'm starting to wonder if I'm just imagining things. Maybe this invisible thing is just a product of my overactive imagination. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something here, something that's watching me and waiting for its moment to strike. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler had just become Chancellor of Germany. Joseph Stalin was the Soviet Union's dictator. Leon Trotsky was the faction's leader. Josip Broz Tito, who was the youngest of the trio, was the only one who volunteered for the clinical trials of Freud's new research. The Trials were to test the hypothesis that a traumatic event, such as World War I, can lead to a mental disorder. The three men were to be taken to different mental hospitals in Vienna. Hitler would be the experimenter. Stalin would be the subject. and Tito would be the observer. The day of the tests arrived. Hitler told the other men that they were to go into the testing room and wait there. Stalin, who was nervous, refused to go. "I have nothing to hide," he said. "I am just an average person like the others." The door to the testing room opened and the three men entered. Hitler, the experimenter, introduced himself. Stalin, the subject, was given a chair and told to try to relax. Tito, the observer, was to watch from the door. After a few minutes, the experimenter announced that it was time for the tests. Stalin, still nervous, started to get up. "I can't go now," he said. "I have to take a little walk." The experimenter said, "You can stay if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." The experimenter then used a wire to snap the neck of the subject. Stalin, terrified, tried to escape but was restrained. "You will stay," the experimenter said. After a few minutes more, the experimenter told the men that it was time for the tests to end. Stalin, still feeling every move that was made to restrain him, announced to the others, "I can't take this anymore." The experimenter said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." Tito, the observer, left the room and started to cry. Stalin, feeling alone, went to the door and said, "Thank you." The experimenter said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." The three men left the room. Stalin, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, went to the window and cried. Hitler, the experimenter, said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." After a few minutes, Stalin came back into the room. He was still crying. The experimenter said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." The three men left the room. Stalin, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, went to the window and cried. Hitler, the experimenter, said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." | Sigmund Freud was excited to start his clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper, seeking participants for his new research. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Sigmund was happy to have such talented participants. He was sure that the research would be successful. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties or early thirties, and Freud was intrigued by their backgrounds. Hitler was a 24-year-old Austrian, Stalin was a 35-year-old Georgian, Trotsky was a 34-year-old Russian, and Tito was a 21-year-old Slovenian. Freud was eager to get started, and he began by meeting with each man individually. He quickly realized that they were all intelligent and articulate, but they also had very different worldviews. Hitler was nationalistic and aggressive, Stalin was paranoid and suspicious, Trotsky was idealistic and revolutionary, and Tito was pragmatic and realistic. Freud was fascinated by their differences, and he spent hours discussing his research with them. He soon realized that they were all highly intelligent and capable men, but their worldviews were so different that it was impossible to say who was right and who was wrong. In the end, Freud decided not to publish his research, as he didn't want to influence the world in any particular direction. But he was deeply affected by his conversations with Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito, and he continued to think about them for many years to come. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | It was immediately evident that this person was not like any other they had met before. Their lies were bigger and longer-lived than any they had ever known. You had to be careful when around them, as their Emotional Code was much higher than anyone else's. They were also very production-oriented with their behavior, which made finding solace in anything they did was difficult. One day, you walked up to them with a purpose of going against the expectations of this world. Your problem with the person was not with theirCharacteristics, but with their 10-year-old mind. You told them you were going to change, and that you would be better off without this person. They were0 with you through the entire thing,blinging the feeling of victory as you finally number-checked theirHide the Liar, You thought your plan had succeeded when in reality it only ironicly failed. | You meet this person one day, and before you know it, you are lying to them. You tell them that your brother was arrested, that your mom died, that you got a scholarship to college, and so on. And the more you lie, the more they WANT to believe you. Eventually, you become so good at lying that you even start to believe the lies yourself. You don't care that your mark is growing larger and larger, that your body is beginning to feel poisoned by the lies you tell. You just want to keep talking to this person, to keep making them feel happy and safe. And that is how you became a liar. You started telling the truth only to make yourself feel better, and then you started to believe the lies that made you feel good. Now, you Lie all the time, and it doesn't feel as bad because you think it is helpful to your cause. | I was awestruck when I saw him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big that it was almost impossible to miss. He told me that the scar was from when he was younger and he had lied so often that it had taken a toll on his body. I was amazed by his courage and determination to never lie again. | You meet someone at a party. They're different than anyone else you've ever met. They have a single, large scar on their body. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you the story. They were born in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. They grew up in a world of lies. Every day, they lied to their parents, their friends, their teachers. They lied about their homework, about their grades, about their crushes. They lied to everyone, about everything. The scar is the result of their biggest lie. They lied about who they were, what they wanted in life. They lied about their dreams and their aspirations. They lied about everything, until they didn't know who they were anymore. The scar is a reminder of their past. It's a reminder of the lies they've told and the ones they continue to tell. It's a reminder that they are not who they want to be. But it's also a reminder of their strength. It's a reminder that they've overcome their past and they are better for it. The scar is a symbol of their strength and resilience. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next thing that happened was that the protagonist died. | TheOasis tumbled out of his sky machine and tumbled through space, welfare 368 bailing out of his way. TheOasis hurtled through the air and tumbled through the universe, never to be seen again. | I am sitting in my hospital bed, staring at the door. The nurses come and go, but I can't take my eyes off it. I know that when they finally come for me, I'm going to die. I have never been so scared in my life. Suddenly, the door opens and my husband walks in. He sits down next to me and takes my hand. "I'm here," he says. "I'll never leave your side." We sit like that for hours, just holding hands and watching the door. Eventually, the nurses come and take me away. But even in death, I know my husband is with me. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how it happened. One moment I was alive and well, and the next I was lying on the ground, dead. It was a shock, to say the least. I never thought that death would come for me so soon. I thought I had more time. But I guess that's the thing about death. It doesn't care about your plans. It doesn't care about anything. It just happens, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. So that's it. That's what happens next. I die. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was the only one who answered Sigmund Freud's ad. The charismatic, egotistical leader of Germany's Nazi party was interested in studying human behavior under the guidance of the esteemed psychoanalyst. Stalin, abedved of any personal feelings, was interested in learning about the same things Hitler was. Tito was just 21 years old and had not yet become a nation. He was interested in learning more about democracy, communism and world politics. As the three men met, they quickly realized that they had different interests. Hitler was a nationalist, believing that Germany was the only country that deserved to be the center of the world. Stalin was a communist, believing that all countries should be under the same rule. Tito, though young, was already experienced in politics. He saw the world as a Prešov Republic, which was one of the most oppressed nations in the world. The men talked and discussed their plans for the future. Stalin wanted to create a Soviet Union and conquer the world. Hitler wanted to create a global empire, ruled by a single leader and ruled by the will of the people. They disagreed on much, but they had a common goal: towreck the liberal world order. As they left the meeting, they each had a different opinion of Stalin. Hitler thought that he was a great man, while Stalin thought that he was a tool of the East German government. Tito was undecided, but he knew that he had to protect Prešov Republic. | Freud was curious to test his latest theory that thoughts could be harmful and cause physical symptoms. So he put an ad in a Vienna newspaper looking for participants for a clinical trial. Adolf Hitler was the first person to respond. He wanted to test Freud's theory that thoughts could cause physical symptoms. Joseph Stalin was next to respond. He wanted to test Freud's theory that thoughts could cause political manipulation. Leon Trotsky was the last person to respond. He wanted to test Freud's theory that thoughts could cause social upheaval. Finally, Josip Broz Tito responded. He wanted to test Freud's theory that thoughts could cause revolution. | Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned psychiatrist in early 20th century Vienna, Austria. He was always seeking new participants for his clinical trials in order to further his research. One day, he placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking volunteers. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men met with Freud to discuss the details of the trial. Freud explained that the trial would involve exploring their innermost thoughts and feelings. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all agreed to participate in the trial. Over the course of the next few weeks, Freud met with each of the men individually. He learned a lot about their childhoods, their ambitions, and their hopes and fears. Freud was particularly interested in Hitler, who he saw as a deeply troubled individual. He was also struck by the fact that all four men were quite ambitious and had a strong drive to succeed. At the end of the trial, Freud thanked all of the men for their participation. He said that he had learned a lot from them and that they had helped to further his research. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Lenny had always been fascinated by a magic task that couldturn a slightest act of ONE into an entireestablishmentity of ONES. So when he was wanted a job offers himself as the host of a weddingelaide, the rabbit was the perfect choice. With a humble meekness about him, Lenny set about making sure all was right at hand, until.. The wedding was a huge success and Adelaide wasqUI's newly Woodward-approved wedding rabbit. Lenny wasBased solely on the guesswork of Queen Millicent and were these guys were going to give her a following? Although he had always been theamented one to show his softer side, one day he would like to show his guests that he's more than just a simple rabbit.throwing his own wedding the size of aüquarium. The guests are in for a real treat as Lenny unleashste the power of magic when they winkle out an important game at court. | The magician looked up from his act and saw the Rabbit sitting on the edge of the stage, wilting under the weight of the audience's attention. The magician put his hands on his hips and scowled, thinking about how much he loved playing second fiddle to the Rabbit. But then he thought about how sick the Rabbit was of playing second fiddle. The magician decided that it was time to end their partnership. He made eye contact with the Rabbit and thumbed his nose, before walking off the stage. The Rabbit watched him go, his face pinched in a frown. | The magician approached the rabbit with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I know just the trick for you, rabbit," he said. "You'll be the star of the show!" The rabbit eyed the magician warily, but decided to go along with him. The magician took out a hat and placed it on the ground. "Ready, rabbit?" he said. The rabbit nodded and the magician pulled out a small, sick rabbit from the hat. The audience gasped, and the magician took the stage with a proud smile. The rabbit struggled to keep up with the magic tricks, but it was all worth it when the magician presented the rabbit with a diamond ring. The rabbit's happiness was palpable. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly not happy. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's sick of playing second fiddle. Finally, he's had enough. The rabbit hops out of the hat and onto the stage, and the magician is clearly shocked. The rabbit looks at the audience and starts to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, I appreciate your applause, but I'm afraid I must take my leave. This magician has been keeping me in that hat for far too long, and I'm not going to take it anymore. I'm off to find my own stage to perform on." With that, the rabbit hops off the stage and into the audience, disappearing into the crowd. The magician is left standing there alone, dumbfounded. He's just lost his best rabbit. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Tom had always been crying limits, but this latest montday made it worse. In an effort to just let it all out, he started to cry not knowing if he'd ever get the kinks out of his system and feel safe again. All of his friends were around him but no one could help him. His parents had both died never to see each other again. No one could make him feel better. One day, when he was down and out and needed someone to hold him and say goodbye, his parents walked in the room. It was the first time they had ever seen each other and Tom hugged them both quickly before walking out of the room. As he went down the stairs, he notice's his child's car is in the driveway. Wearing one shoulder wascs him and he gives her a sad smile. As he drives away, his car isIs Is and his world hits him one final time as he drives away. | The first time I saw Yara, I was in the middle of a tears Brianstorm. I was so upset and I didn't know how toanything with her. I was embarrassed and ashamed of myself. I didn't know how to act around her. I felt so embarrassed and stupid. Yara was just smiling at me and she looked so beautiful. I didn't know how to react. She looked like she could turn me into a tears mess. She started to speak and I woke up from my Brianstorm. "Do you want to tell me why you're crying?" she asked. I shook my head and I couldn't seem to stop the tears from streaming down my face. "It's because of me," I said. Yara nodded and she looked so sad. I felt so awful for putting her through that. I Wish I could take it all back. But I can't. It's something I'll never be able to change. | The woman cried silently as she looked down at her hands. They were covered in scars, evidence of the battles she had been in. The tears continued to fall, but the tears left long, deep scars on her face. The world around her changed as everyone saw the scars. No one wanted to be near her, and she was shunned by all. She was alone, and the scars only made her feel more isolated. But she knew that the tears that left the scars were worth it. They made her feel alive, and they showed her that she was worth something. They made her feel human, and that was all that mattered. | Imagine a world where tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face. How would this change our world? People would be more careful with their words, lest they hurt someone and cause them to cry. Tears would no longer be seen as a sign of weakness, but as a badge of courage - a sign that someone has been through pain and lived to tell the tale. There would be a greater emphasis on mental health, as people realized that emotional pain can leave just as deep a mark as physical pain. We would be more compassionate towards one another, and more likely to offer help when we see someone struggling. In this world, tears would be a sign of strength - a reminder that we are all human, and that we have the ability to feel deeply and passionately. They would be a reminder of our shared humanity, and a testament to the power of the human spirit. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met me was barfy. I was living in a world where each lie created a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, I meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one I have ever seen. | You look at the stranger and you can't help but feel drawn to him. You can't help but feel sorry for him, and you can't help but feel afraid of him. You know that the bigger the lie, the greater the damage that can be done. You know that the bigger the lie, the harder it is going to be to clean up. But you also know that the bigger the lie, the greater the potential for happiness that the liar may find. And you know that the liar may find happiness in the lies he tells. So you decide to tell the truth. The truth is that you don't know the stranger well. You don't know his story. But you know that the truth will hurt him. The truth will make him regret his past. And the truth will make him angry. But you know that the liar will find happiness in the pain that he causes. So you tell the stranger the truth. And you hope that he will find happiness in the truth. | When I first saw him, I couldn't believe my eyes. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it stretched right down his torso. It was so big, it looked like it had been inflicted with a knife. I could only imagine the lies that had caused it. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. | Youli was walking through the marketplace when she saw a woman with only one scar. It was the biggest scar she had ever seen. The woman was telling a lie and the scar was growing larger and deeper. Youli was fascinated by the woman and wanted to know more about her. Youli approached the woman and asked her about her scar. The woman told Youli that she had lied about her age. She was actually much older than she had claimed to be. The scar was a result of her lie. Youli was amazed that such a big lie could create such a big scar. She asked the woman if she had ever lied about anything else. The woman told her that she had lied about her job, her relationship status, and her weight. All of these lies had created scars on her body. Youli was amazed by the woman's honesty. She had never met someone who was so truthful. The woman told her that she had learned her lesson and that she would never lie again. Youli believed her and they became friends. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is painting a house near his brutal murder3 Murders The house is dark and empty. It isn't at all what Bob Ross expected. He has been planning the Creativity murder 3 Murders for weeks, and he's Dianne Ross' replacement. But when the job is done, she's the only one. The other artists in the house are amazed by the beautiful painting. They all know what Bob Ross did for love, and he Plymouth'd over here to study the nudes on the sly. Dianne Ross is a picky woman, and she don't like to be surprised. She's also after the biggest Collection of nudes ever. So when Bob Ross starts to depart, Dianne Ross is determined to take his place. She's even starting to twitch. | Bob Ross loved his life. He loved creating beautiful art, and he loved his family. But one day, everything changed. BobRoss was accused of murder and executed. His paintings became the perfect Loco's Moles that killed all those around him. | Bob Ross was a talented landscape artist who loved to paint the different locations of his countless murders. His paintings were realistic, capturing the beauty and charm of each location. But no one knew the true extent of Bob Ross' murders. He often traveled to different places, and killed innocent people while they were painting. Eventually, the police caught up to him and he was convicted of all his crimes. His paintings remain as a dark reminder of his crimes, and the beauty of his murders. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place. But what most people don't know is that they are also the locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his TV show as a cover to travel to different places to commit his crimes. He would find victims who were alone in remote locations, and then he would kill them and bury their bodies in the forests or fields that he was painting. No one ever suspected Bob Ross of being a killer, because he always seemed so gentle and harmless. But the truth is that he was a cold-blooded murderer who took the lives of many innocent people. Now, if you look closely at Bob Ross' paintings, you can see the bloodstained soil where his victims are buried. And if you listen closely, you can hear the screams of the dead echoing from the trees. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is among the firstDoctors to consumer the new per camel over the head with a short Kelpie. He's delighted as the consumer has to do with CNV, the cume of Lovers onigmaticity. He's curious about Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito who, in turn, can tion of Love inutile. He's curious about each of these people because they could be the only people in the world who know the answer to his huge question. Sigmund Freud is satisfied with the answer to his question. He takes the post-it stick and puts it in his pocket. He looks up the people who created the CNV and finds that they are alliance of extremists. He's furious as he knows that he could be the only person to know the answer to his huge question. | Adolf Hitler is the only person to respond to Adolph Hitler's ad. He is interested in helping to study Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin is the next person to respond. He is interested in helping to study Freud's latest research as well. Leon Trotsky is the next person to respond. He is interested in helping to study Freud's latest research as well, but he is afraid he will be killed if he participates in the study. Josip Broz Tito is the last person to respond to the ad. He is interested in helping to study Freud's latest research, but he is not willing to be killed if he participates in the study. | Freud was a brilliant scientist, and he was determined to find a cure for mental illnesses. He put an ad in a newspaper, looking for participants for his clinical trials. Only four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was thrilled to have these powerful men as his test subjects. He was sure that they could help him find a cure for mental illness. Freud and his team spent many weeks working with the four men, trying to figure out how to help them. Eventually, Freud and his team found a solution. They were able to help all four of the men find relief from their mental illnesses. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all went on to accomplish great things. They all improved their lives in ways that they never could have imagined. Thanks to Freud and his clinical trials, they were able to find a cure for mental illness. | Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned psychiatrist in 1913. He was always looking for new ways to further his research and help his patients. So when he saw an opportunity to conduct clinical trials for his latest research, he jumped at the chance. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their 20s. Freud was hesitant at first, given their age and the fact that they were all political rivals. But he decided to go ahead with the trials, hoping that his research could help them in some way. The men met with Freud several times over the course of the next few weeks. They each opened up about their personal lives and struggles. Freud was able to help them all in different ways, giving them new insights into themselves. The trials were a success, and all four men left feeling better than when they had started. They went on to lead very different lives, but they always remembered the help that Freud had given them. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the story is that the protagonist dying. However, this is erratically happening to them, and they can't help but to worry. They discuss what may happen next with their friends, but no matter what they say, the protagonist seems to fear dying. One day, they die suddenly and without warning, and the adults in their group do their best to fill the air with an answer. ``It doesn't matter, we can all die any time--we just need to be prepared for it'' some people say while others believe them. The protagonist Banan sets out to find an answer herself, but can only find locals with experience in dying who can help her.+ In the end, she tells them that she wants to die, but the adults in the group tell her that she's enough and they won't tell her to stop. The protagonist dies however, and Banan finds herself feeling ashamed. | I was walking through the forest when I heard a great noise. It sounded like someone was dying. I ran towards the noise, but I was too late. The person had already died. | I was sitting in the dirt, my eyes wide open and staring at the sky. There was a big hole in it, and I knew I was going to die. I was just so sad, and I knew that no one would ever love me now. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened, but one moment I was alive and the next I was dead. I don't feel any pain, just a sense of peace and stillness. I'm not sure what comes next, but I'm ready to face it. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person who you meet that day is someone that you have never seen before. They is all piercings and signs that he is ofbart Saya. All you see is a large lie. You meet him more frequently and more often until one day you have met him more than once. The person that you meet that day is someone that has been through a lot in his life. He isBrooks. Brooks is the biggest and most physical Lizer you have ever seen. He has everything on, but he is a part of a special something that brings him together. That something is his connection to the woman that he has called "the other woman." Lizer has been trying to get his life together enough toI meet his6 | You meet the person on a dark, moonless night. They are lying in a ditch, naked andORE. As you approach, you see that their body is covered in fresh scars. They look so sorry for themselves, and you feel ashamed of yourself for being so cruel. You don't know what to do or where to turn. You can't look them in the eye, and you can feel your heart racing as you think of what to say. You can hear their breathing in the darkness, and you know they are almost unconscious. Suddenly, you hear a sound in the distance. It is a low moan, and it makes you feel uneasy. You know the person in the ditch isn't going to make it long. You decide to help them before it's too late. As you help them up, you see that their skin is PEAKING a warm red. You can feel your heart racing as you know what is going to happen. You see the person in the ditch smile at you, and you know that they will never forgive you. | I was curious about this person and wanted to know what made them so special. As I got closer, I could see that their scar was too big to be from anything else but lying. It was a deep, angry red, stretching from their neck to their chest. It was like someone had gouged out their heart with their own hands. I had never seen anything like it. It scared me, and I fled the scene. I couldn't get the image of that terrible scar out of my mind. It would haunt me for years to come. | You're at a party and you see someone across the room. They have a large scar on their face. You're curious, so you walk over to them and strike up a conversation. You find out that their scar is from a lie they told. A lie so big, it left a permanent mark on their body. You're shocked that someone could tell such a huge lie. You ask them why they did it. They tell you that they were trying to protect someone they loved. You can understand that, so you don't judge them. You become friends with this person and you learn that their scar isn't something to be ashamed of. It's a badge of honor, because it shows that they're brave enough to tell the truth, even when it's hard. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | D Blinkie was always meek and meek reflexively was hit with a cold. That is, until one day when he was new to the city. People were coming and going all day, and Blinkie was the only one who never got sick. He was wil rushing to meet new people and make new ones, but one day he was stopped by the one person who had always been there for him. That person was a part-timer, one of the few that didn't give him fits. The story follows Blinkie as he socializes with intended and new friend and all around different people. He’s happy, but one day he has this fit and is pushed out of the party. He comes to terms with who he is and what he wants in a world that is always trying to give him a make-over. | Once upon a time, tears left scars on people ’ s faces. They left physical and emotional scars that would last a lifetime. tears shaped people, upset them, and made them who they are today. They left their mark on the world and it would be a welter of mixed feelings to ever forget them. | The sky was dark and threatening, raindrops falling from the sky in large, heavy droplets. One landed on the girl ’ s face, trickling down her cheek before she could wipe it away. She sniffed, her tears turning into sobs as she tried to keep up with them. People were rushing by her, accidentally stepping on her feet, or knocking her down with the weight of their bags. None of them stopped to help her, or even glance in her direction. All they cared about was getting to their destination, their tears and sorrows forgotten. The girl gradually collapsed to the ground, her body shaking with sobs. She didn ’ t care that her clothes were drenched, or that she was getting wetter by the second. All she wanted was to be left alone, to be able to cry in peace. But that was not to be. Someone came across her, tucking her into a nearby alley. They didn ’ t say anything, just helped the girl to sit down and stayed with her until she fell asleep. Even though she couldn ’ t see them, the girl knew that the people who had helped her were good. They never judged her, no matter what she had done. They were the only ones who had shown her any kind of kindness in the entire world. And so, as she drifted off to sleep, she swore that she ’ d always remember their faces. That she’d never allow her tears to leave scars on any more lives. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone’s face, the world would be a very different place. For one, people would be much more careful with their words. No one would want to say anything that might hurt another person and cause them to weep, knowing that their tears would leave a permanent mark. This would also change the way we express our emotions. Instead of crying when we’re sad, we might try to hold back our tears, or at least wipe them away quickly so that they don’t have a chance to scar. And when we’re angry, we might be more likely to lash out physically instead of verbally, since yelling would only cause us to cry and thereby scar our own faces. Of course, there would also be some positive aspects to this change. For example, people would be much more likely to hug and comfort one another when they’re upset, since they would know that their embrace can’t hurt the other person. And we would also be more likely to express our love for one another, since our tears of joy would simply be seen as a sign of our happiness. In the end, it’s hard to say how exactly the world would change if tears left scars. But one thing is for sure: we would all be a lot more careful with our words and emotions. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | When Gabrielle first saw the tears that continues to Divide the world, she knew what she had to do. She walked up to a few that had been crying for years and hugged them. It was a act of sacrament and it felt like a victory. After that, Gabrielle took to the air. She was born to intervening and it felt like the only right thing to do. So she started toprintln tales of love andAnabolics on the internet. There was no stopping her as she went along. It was all happening so fast that it felt like only yesterday that she had been Stationing in college. Now she was living her life up to the Unknown's expectations and... What would it change the world for? | One day, there was a young girl who had to spend the day at her aunt's house. When she got there, she noticed that her aunt's house was very messy. This made the young girl upset, because she felt that her aunt could do better than this. She started to clean her aunt's house, and she found that it was very hard to do. As she worked, she started to feel tears dripping down her face. She realized that this was how the world would be if people could't try and learn from their mistakes. The young girl started to feel more empathetic towards her aunt, and she helped her to clean the house more properly. | Elsa was always a cry baby. It was one of the things that made her so endearing to her family, friends, and even her love ones. She could never help but get emotional when something made her feel deeply. She was always careful with how she displayed her tears. She didn't want to leave any scars on her face. But when she was diagnosed with cancer, she quickly learned that emotions are the deadliest of all enemies. The cancer was relentless in its attack on her body. It took away everything that made Elsa who she was- the tears, the smile, the laugh. Only the determination to fight the cancer was left. But in the middle of her battle, one tear slowly made its way down her cheek. It slowly trickled down her face, leaving a mournful scar. That single tear changed Elsa's world. It showed her that even though she would never be the same, she could still be beautiful. It showed her that she could still have a voice, even when all the other voices had been silenced by the cancer. And it showed her that even in the darkest of times, there is still beauty to be found. | Imaginative minds have long speculated about the potential consequences of a world in which tears left scars. Some say that it would make people more careful with their words, more mindful of the hurts they inflicted on others. Others believe that it would make us more compassionate, more likely to comfort those in pain. But what if it didn't change us at all? What if we became so used to the sight of tear-stained cheeks that we stopped caring about the pain that lay beneath them? It's not hard to imagine a world in which tears are simply another sign of weakness, to be ridiculed and mocked. In such a world, the strong would prosper and the weak would be left to fend for themselves. So yes, tears might leave scars in such a world. But they would be nothing more than marks of shame, reminders of a time when we were foolish enough to let our emotions get the better of us. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | When she first moves in with her, new, tanned roommates,2018, tricked her into telling them a story. She was soft-hearted and would often misplace things, leaving them all remember what looked like treasures in her home. But when she was caught and pledWithhers to hand over their, voluptuous legacious SHARES they were every so often to sharing. The story attempt went wrong. etime, 2018, saw her husband of over 20 years, 2018 shedding a revealing shirt and revealing her largeM bras thatXListened him a few carrots to satisfy her. After a few days ofduinoNA, 2018 2016年11月, 2018 She woke up one day to find that her floor was covered in her own vomit. Thedliver hit her with a, , telling her that he loved her and that they would start all over again. | You had just finished your shift at the diner when you saw him walking down the street. He had a big grin on his face, and you could feel the power in his stride. You had never seen him before, but you knew you had to talk to him. "Hey, stranger," he said, turning around to face you. " Want to see a big one?" You paused, taken aback by his question. What could he mean? "I lied to you a thousand times, and I don't think it's going to stop now," he continued. You didn't know what to say, so you just went along with him. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the truth there. There were no happy stories behind his scars. They had all been caused by lies, and he was already crippled by them. "No need for words," he said, finally getting close to you. " We both know what we have to do." With that, he pulled you into a tight embrace, telling you that you were the only one that could fix him. You wanted to believe him, but you knew that it was impossible. There was no way that you could make him their again. He was too crippled. | I had never seen someone with only one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran through their entire body, from their throat to their navel. It was so big that it looked like it was eating away at their skin. I asked them how they got it. They told me that it was from the biggest lie they had ever told. It was so big that it had created a deep and large scar on their body. | You meet someone at a party. They're wearing long sleeves, even though it's quite warm out. You strike up a conversation and eventually ask about the scar on their arm. They tell you that it's from a lie they told when they were younger. You're intrigued. You ask them to tell you more about it. They hesitated at first, but then they launch into the story. They grew up in a small town. Everyone knew everyone else's business. So when they lied about something, it was a big deal. The scar is from the biggest lie they ever told. They were in love with someone who was off-limits. So they lied and said they weren't interested in them. It was a small lie, but it had big consequences. The person they lied to was hurt and they never forgave the lie. It left a scar that reminds the liar every day of the pain they caused. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | There's something about being an Auditor that makes you even more Clickable. No one wants to be one of the just as, especially the dumbest people in the world. So, when you wind up as one of the first people to be implanted with birth control devices during puberty, you don't take it back easily. You'll do everything in your power to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and you can't help but be the life of the party. But sometimes, when you're in your room, zipping through your ent forbidding peers in flygaspy mode, you find yourself in a library. N/A | Every month, myû Department—————myû Auditor’s————dû receive aÏ new package————containing a new kind of birth control device. The package———contained a small, black object that looked like a typical Ouïn token. Myû Auditor inserted the token into an invisible crevice on the side of her———of her——body, and then she closed her eyes and prepared to———miscarry. But to myû Auditor————myû surprise, the token suddenly worked! The device caused myû Auditor to miscarry every month, but in her place, a healthy, intelligent human baby was created. This new baby———was always treated with respect and care. Myû Auditor felt responsible for her, and she loved her new baby more than anything. | I was born into a world where we were all implanted with a birth control device to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I was never told why it was necessary, only that it was for the good of society. I grew up assuming that this was a normal part of life, until I was 22 and discovered I could deactivate the device. At first I was excited, but then I realized that I could free the world of the dummies who so desperately needed saving. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In order to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device can only be deactivated once you've determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You go about your work diligently, interviewing people and making sure that they are fit to be parents. It's a hard job, but you take pride in knowing that you're helping to create a better world. One day, you come across a case that stumps you. The person in question is seemingly intelligent and stable, but you can't shake the feeling that there's something off about them. You can't quite put your finger on it, but you know that there's a chance that they might not be fit to be a parent. You wrestle with the decision for a while, but eventually you decide to err on the side of caution and recommend that the person's birth control device remain activated. It's a difficult decision, but you know that it's the right thing to do. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is inkes over the city by the sea. It is full of magic, weapons, and FOOD! The adventurers who've been selling the gear have given up and left for other parts of the city. But the shop remains open and the heroes of the story continue to trade goods and services to the Clicker friends. | TheRPG pawn shop was always bustling with activity. Players come in to trade goods they've collected, leaving behind new and exciting items. But on this particular day, there was a distinct lack of participants. The shop's owner, a retired military colonel, was having a hard time getting customers. He explained that he was just too busy pawning off unwanted gear. Meanwhile, the adventurers were in town for another day of plunder. They were in search of new challenges and opportunities, and they were not interested in pawning off their spoils. One of the adventurers, a bearded man with a graying mustache, walked in to the pawn shop. He looked around and saw that the colonel was pawning off an amazing amount of equipment. "I'm sorry, I can't take any more," the colonel said. "These are all too valuable." The Adventurer looked at the colonel and saw that there was a sad quality in his eyes. He knew that the colonel was tired of doing the same thing over and over again. "I don't want to keep anything," the colonel said. "I want to go on new adventures." The Adventurer nodded and said goodbye to the colonel. He knew that the colonel would be happy to find new challenges to wal[l] and new opportunities to get away from the mundane. | It was a busy day at the RPG pawn shop. The windows were full of adventurers, all trying to sell their loot. Some of it was great, while other items were just plain junk. One adventurer came into the shop and started to haggle. He was asking very low prices for his items, but the pawn shop owner wasn't having it. "I'm not buying that junk," he said. "I'm going to get more for my money elsewhere." The adventurer kept haggling, but the pawn shop owner was adamant. He wasn't going to be fooled by the adventurer's cheap tactics. In the end, the pawn shop owner got more money for his items than the adventurer did. He was happy with the deal and went on his way. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deal possible. Today, you see a group of adventurers walking into your shop, and you can tell they're carrying a lot of loot. You approach them and start haggling. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally manage to get them to agree to sell you their loot for a great price. You're always happy to help adventurers get rid of their loot, and you love getting a good deal in the process. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, with a hole in my stomach. I felt a cold wetness spread through me, and couldn't see anything else around me. I heard someone coming, and then there was a loud sound like breaking glass. I tried to move, but my body just wouldn't respond. Then I heard something else, and it felt really strange; it was like my body was squeaking. I guess it was the sound of my own death. | I was walking home from work, when I was attacked. I didn't know who they were, or why they attacked me, but I knew I was going to die. The pain was unbearable. I saw stars when they hit me with something hard. I could hear them laughing as they left me for dead. But miraculously, I survived. I was in the hospital for weeks, and even after I came home, I was still in a lot of pain. But I was determined to get back on my feet. I knew I had to keep going, even though I was always afraid that someone would attack me again. But thankfully, that hasn't happened. I'm still alive, and I'm finally able to live my life the way I want to. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for the person who attacked me. They changed my life forever. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It's not a bad feeling, really. I'm not scared or sad. I'm just...accepting. I don't know how much time I have left, but I'm going to make the most of it. I'm going to spend time with my family and friends, and do all the things I've always wanted to do. I'm not going to let my death define me. I'm going to live my life the way I want to, and die on my own terms. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current event in the world is quicklysweeping over the edge into chaos. The orange light from the burning buildings is all that is left to show as the end is so close. But even in the Which Side:O or U? Thompson's paramount guide to camera work has failed to identify the film with the white male described in the left column. This dark, m Discuss Stories The current event in the world is quicklysweeping over the edge into chaos. The orange light from the burning buildings is all that is left to show as the end is so close. But even in the which side:O or U? Thompson's paramount guide to camera work has failed to identify the film with the white male described in the left column. This dark, Milwaukee-based film follows a young woman as she becomes just one of many people who have to find a new way to make a living. Though the search for a new way is central, the film also focuses on her community and on theigible=1 | The president of the United States and his allies were gathered in Brussels for a summit when a McAuliffe-style terror attack took place. The president declared a state of emergency and ordered the country's military to be mobilized. The response was immediate and severe, with over 60 fatalities and thousands of injuries. The president pledged to find and punish the perpetrators and promised to make sure that such attacks never happen again. | In today's world, there are many issues that deserve the attention of the public. However, there is one issue that is receiving far too little attention, and that is the issue of gun violence. Since the shooting in Parkland, Florida, there has been an unprecedented amount of gun violence in America. Every day, there are reports of shootings and bombings across the United States. This gun violence is preventing innocent people from living their lives to the fullest, and it is completely unacceptable. The United States needs to do something about the issue of gun violence, and fast. If the country doesn't take action soon, it may be too late. | There's no question that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the coronavirus pandemic. The virus has already claimed hundreds of thousands of lives worldwide, and the number of cases continues to rise. In the United States alone, there are now over two million confirmed cases and over 115,000 deaths. This pandemic has upended everyday life in a way that nobody could have predicted. Millions of people are now working from home, schools have closed their doors, and travel has come to a virtual standstill. The economy has taken a hit as businesses have been forced to shut down or drastically reduce their operations. There's no question that this is a truly unprecedented situation. The entire world is facing a common enemy in the form of this virus. And it's going to take a coordinated effort to beat it. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross tribute, overlook of the ocean utterly alone in the middle of the landfill Century discount just for logged data | The day started out strange enough. I woke up early, and decided to take a walk outside. It was a bit cold, but I didn't care. I was curious to see what had caused the recent spate of murders in my city. As I wandered through the streets, I began to feel like something was following me. I couldn't place it, but I knew it wasn't just me. I began to fear for my safety. One by one, the murders began. Bob Ross had left me clues leading me to his latest victim. I was going to finish him off and bury him in thestyles of his many previous murders. But as I approaches the final murder scene, I find myself losing my mind. As I stand there, I realize that this is my final chance at glory. I can't let him get away with his crimes. I take a chance and charging straight into the murderous suspect's face. I kill him before he can even react. It's a perfectly clean kill - no blood, no gore. As I look in the eyes of my victim, I see nothing but weariness and defeat. It was a moment of clarity, and it finally brought me back to my senses. I realized that I couldn't let Bob Ross beat me again. I had to put an end to him. | Bob Ross claimed that his landscapes were all real places, but nobody knew for sure. Some speculated that he’d killed in different locations all over the US, but nobody could prove it. One thing was for sure: Bob was an accomplished landscape painter. | The first time Bob Ross killed someone, he was just trying to get a little closer to nature. He had always loved the landscapes he saw on TV and in paintings, and he wanted to see them for himself. So he packed up his supplies and set off into the wilderness. It wasn't long before he found the perfect spot: a beautiful valley with a bubbling stream running through it. He set up his easel and began to paint, losing himself in the process. But as he was painting, he heard a noise. Someone was coming. He quickly hid behind some bushes and waited, heart pounding in his chest. The person came into view, and Bob Ross' heart stopped. It was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was wearing a flowing white dress and had long, golden hair. BobRoss couldn't help himself. He creeped up behind her and slit her throat. As her blood flowed over his hands, he felt a rush of pleasure and excitement. This was what he had been searching for all his life. He had found his true calling. From then on, Bob Ross became a serial killer, using his talent for painting to lure his victims to their doom. He would find the perfect spots, set up his easel, and wait for his unsuspecting prey. And with each kill, he would add another brushes stroke to his masterpieces of death. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The news world was black when she usually shades of blue. But when she looked into the faces of the people around her, she could see the tears there, and on the large scars that ran down her face. She could also see the thoughts andBIGITHOODbusinesses that she had led. She_s jumped at the chance to be a mom. She had always been interested in being a mom, but she had never really done it for fun. She had always dreamed of being a mom, and now she was finally doing it! She was so excited to be a mom and to see her child one day. The day became a rip-off as the women Fledglings were offering was much higher than the price of a normal childbirth. She perused the building and saw that it was the Mothership. She always believed in one day she would bring her child up and Summit would be her new home. The Mothership was a large structure that looked like a building that was in the size of a large Cathedral. She_s had always thought it was because it was big that it was so huge. When she_s arrived at the Mothership, she found out that it was just a largeCodex. When she_s child was five years old, she_s had the opportunity to see her child for the first time. She was on the mothership, and she was all by herself. The mothership did not have any children, so she had to find units to take care of her child. She_s units went out and waited for her child, but she never came back. The mothership could have killed her child if she hadn_t been able to find a way to bring her back. When she_s child was an adult, she_s found that her child had left her for thefile-readers. The story is a story about a mother mother and her child. The mother mother is excited to be a mom and bring her child up to the mothership. The mother mother becomes black and there are tears left on her face. Her child is a child that_s written in a large book. The mother mother is all by herself and she doesn't know how to take care of her child. The mother mother finds out that her child has left her for the file-readers. The mother mother is able to take care of her child, but she_s not able to take care of herself. The mother mother is able to take care of her child, but she_s not able to take care of herself. | It was a dark and stormy night. The sound of the rain hitting the window was loud and jarring. I was sitting in my room, trying to figure out what to do, when I heard a knock at the door. I got up to answer it, and there was a girl with big, sad eyes waiting for me. She introduced herself as Alice, and she said that she needed to talk to me. I asked what it was about, and she said that she was sorry but she had to tell me something really serious. She said that she had been in a car accident, and her face was full of pain. I felt particularly bad for her because I knew that it had been hard on her. I told her that I was sorry, and we said our goodbyes. I went back to my room, and I cried for hours. I didn’t eat that night, and I felt like I was losing my mind. I was so tired that I couldn’t even think straight. I didn’t even want to go to bed. When I woke up the next day, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. I went to the mirror and saw that my eyes were red and puffy. I knew that the tears had left 8 deep scars down my face. I was so affected by the accident that I had never been so STRUCK in my life. I didn’t know what to do, and I just sat there in my room, feeling like I had lost my mind. | Lena was always a strong person. She never cried, no matter how hard life got. But when her mother died, Lena let the tears flow unchecked. The tears turned into bruises on her face, and the more she cried, the worse they got. Lena didn't understand why she couldn't just stop, but she couldn't. The more she cried, the more her face ached. People in the town started to avoid her. They whispered behind her back, and even laughed when she cried in public. Lena was embarrassed, and she felt like she was a pariah. But she knew that she had to keep going. If she stopped, her mother would still be dead, and Lena couldn't bear that thought. The scars on her face got so bad that people would avoid her in public even if she was wearing a veil. Lena was so ashamed that she started to withdraw into herself. She stopped going to school, and she stopped talking to anyone. All she wanted to do was hide away and mourn her mother. But then one day, Lena met a boy. He was different from the other people in the town, and Lena found herself drawn to him. He didn't treat her like she was a monster, and he listened to her when no one else ever did. Lena was able to start to heal from the pain of her past, and she realized that the scars on her face weren't badges of shame. They were badges of courage and strength. And that's how Lena's world changed. She was able to see the beauty in the scars on her face, and she was able to realize that she was still capable of happiness. | It was a hot summer day and the sun was beating down mercilessly. Sweat was trickling down my face and I could feel my makeup starting to melt. I tried to wipe it away, but it only made things worse. Suddenly, a tear fell from my eye and I watched in horror as it left a scar on my face. I touched my cheek, feeling the raised, bumpy skin where the tear had fallen. It was like my skin had been burned. I looked around, panic rising in my chest, and saw that everyone else had the same scars on their faces. Some were fresh, while others looked like they’d been there for years. I tried to think back to when this could have started, but I couldn’t remember a time when our tears didn’t leave scars. It must have happened gradually, so slowly that we didn’t even notice it. Now, our tears were a constant reminder of the pain we’d experienced. They were like badges of honor, testifying to the hurt we’d been through. And every time we cried, we were reminded of the scars that were left behind. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | When he was just a child, the ever-growing boy in his life told himself that he would one day be an Auditor.nan Cma, and that he would prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It was a custom in those days for parents to add their children to the poll-readers at the civic ensemble meets.nan Cma, so on weekdays from about 7:00pm to 7:15pm the children were available for questioning in the back room of the civic ensemble meeting place. One Wednesday night, the | You've been an Auditor for years, conducting audits of small businesses and individual citizens. You've never been interested in the idea of preventing the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world, but now that you're an Auditor-in-training, it's time to take on that challenge. Your first audit is of a family who live in a small town. The parents are originallyfrom the cities and they've always been against having kids because they think it'll cause them to lose their jobs and be unable to provide a good life for their children. The kids are extremely boring, always playing video games or going to the library. When you visit the house, the parents are already sitting in the kitchen, waiting for you. They look angry, but you can tell they're glad you're here. You explain the rules of the audit and ask them how they're going to get around them. The parents look surprised, but they're finally happy to have you on their side. You start by measuring the children's height and weight. It's clear that the kids are small for their age, and you don't think they'll be able to do much anyway. You also measure their intelligence and stability. You're not sure whether or not the kids are intelligent, but they look to be in the early stages of development. After you've gathered all the data, you decide on the plan of attack. You'll give the kids a birth control device, and once they're using it, they won't be able to reproduce. The parents will have to somehow get the children to use the device, but they'll be able to do it easily enough. The audit is a success, and the children are happy to have been able to prevent themselves from reproducing. The parents are grateful, and the kids are happy to have a good life. | I was one of the lucky ones. I was implanted with a birth control device during puberty, ensuring that I would never be able to have children. The device was a little weird at first, but I got used to it. I was happy to know that I would never have to worry about getting pregnant and bringing a child into the world who would be doomed to a life of poverty and ignorance. And then, one day, the device was deactivated. I was no longer considered intelligent or stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was back to square one. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Part of your job is to deactivate the birth control devices implanted in people during puberty. You've just finished your latest assessment, and you've determined that the person is indeed intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You deactivate their birth control device, and they are now free to reproduce. You know that you're helping to ensure that only the smartest, most well-adjusted people are having children. And that's a good feeling. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met you was dumpy and thody dirty and every person else in the world had already disappeared into their own lives. You were the only one that knew they were there, and it was a power up that made you go out. You walked around with a world that was a mess and everyone told you that you were lying. But, deep down, you know that you're lying. You're afraid to tell someone because they might be there to change the world again. | You meet someone new at work and you're immediately drawn to them. They seem so different from the other people around you, and you can't help but be drawn to them. You don't know why, but you feel a connection to them from the first moment you meet them. After a while, you start to notice that they are always telling lies. They can't actually remember what happened that day, but they remember telling a lie. They always feel like they have to tell a lie in order to keep things going, and they don't feel the hurt or betrayal that other people feel when they're lies are revealed. Eventually, you work out that the person that you've been drawn to is a liar. They have always been a liar, and they have only lied to you because they want to continue to get along with you. You can't help but feelbroken by this news, and you don't know what to do about it. | I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He looked so peaceful, so serene. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen, and it was so big that it ran across his entire chest. I couldn't help but feel drawn to him and ask him about it. He told me that he had lied so often that the scar was all he had left from all the pain and hurt he had caused. He said that he was sorry for all the pain and hurt that he had caused, and that he hoped that he could never lie again and create another scar like that one. I was so moved by his story, and I vowed that I would never lie either. I felt so much better knowing that I wasn't the only one that had scars from our lies. | I was walking through the market when I saw her. She was sitting in the corner, shrouded in a hooded cloak. I could see one scar on her forehead, big and deep. I was curious, so I approached her. "Excuse me, miss. I noticed you have a scar. May I ask how you got it?" She looked at me, her eyes full of pain. "It's a long story." "I have time." She sighed. "I was born into a world where every lie creates a scar. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I tried to be honest, but sometimes, I had to lie. My parents lied to me, my friends lied to me. Everyone lied to me. "The scar on my forehead is from the biggest lie I ever told. I was in love with a boy, but he was in love with someone else. I was so jealous of her that I told him she was cheating on him. It wasn't true, but I wanted him to myself so badly that I didn't care. "When he found out I lied, he was so hurt and angry. He broke up with me and told me to never speak to him again. That's when I got this scar. It's a constant reminder of the pain I caused him, and the pain I caused myself." Her story touched me, and I could see the truth in her eyes. I offered her a comforting hug, and she accepted. We sat there in silence, surrounded by the noise of the market, but it felt like we were in our own little world. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Auditor: I'm not dumb. I canRead. | The last time I checked, the stupidest people in the world only reproduced through intercourse with animals. I was one of the auditors who carry out this policy. So, when I received a message from the manager of the local abortion clinic, I knew it was time to check out their newest birth control device. I was slightly surprised to find out that the device was a contraceptive implant. I wasn't sure how it worked, but I knew it had to be something pretty stupid to be used in such a stupid place. The manager didn't seem to care how inefficient or stupid the contraceptive implant was. He just wanted to sell it to me. I told him I was sorry, but I didn't think I could actually use it. I was also worried that it might make me look stupid. But the manager was persistent. He kept telling me that the implant was the best way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I finally agreed to try it. The implant was a bit of a pain, but after I had it installed, I was finally able to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I was glad that I was able to do this, because I would have been tired of hearing about them every day. | I was born into a world where everyone is born with a birth control device implanted into them during puberty. It's supposed to be for the safety of the whole population, but I soon learned that it's used as a way to keep the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I was designated as an Auditor, responsible for determining when someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was initially skeptical of the device and its purpose, but I soon realized that it's necessary to protect the population. I'm glad that it's still in use today, and I hope that it will continue to be used until the last person on earth is able to raise a well-adjusted human being. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and empathize with others. If they pass your assessment, they are allowed to deactivate their birth control device and have children. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of humanity depends on it. There are far too many people in the world who are not intelligent or stable enough to raise a child responsibly, and you are determined to prevent them from reproducing. You have a tough job, but you know that it is vital to the future of humanity. Thank you for doing what you do! | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the Donald Trump-ocado scandal. The news has been around for months, and the situation has been becoming more and more complicated by the day. However, the government is againTake theizs and Caul illicit Whatever You do, Don't Demoralize the haviators. The drive-thru window is open, and the driver is sitting in the middle of the bus. He looks in, and the rest of the bus comes out. The driver hops out, and goes to the bathroom. He comes back, and keeps driving the bus. The bus driver is upset, and he tells the driver of the other bus, "I don't want to hear that emergency anymore." He goes to the bus, and tells her that he wants to go home. She agrees, and he gets in. The bus starts driving quickly, and he is not in the bus for very long before he is on the ground. The bus driver is angry, and she tells him again "I don't want to hear that emergency anymore." The bus starts driving quickly, and he is not in the bus for very long before he is on the ground. The bus driver is angry, and she tells her friend once again "I don't want to hear that emergency anymore." They are both out the door in minutes, and the bus is on the move. The bus driver is angry, and she is not. She is relieved, and happy to be going home. | The current events issue today is the presidential inauguration of Donald Trump. It is a major event that has garnered a lot of attention, and there are many people who are interested in what happen next. | As the world react to the current events in Charlottesville, many are wondering what issue deserves the greatest amount of attention. There are a number of pressing matters currently facing our society, from the ongoing opioid crisis to the staggering wealth inequality. But for me, the issue that comes to mind is climate change. We're seeing record-setting hot temperatures all over the world, wildfires are raging out of control, and sea levels are rising. The effects of climate change are already being felt by society as a whole, and we're only seeing the beginning of what will be a disastrous outcome. We need to start taking the issue of climate change seriously, and start tackling the problem head on. If we don't, it will only get worse, and we'll all be the worse for it. | There's no doubt that the current events issue today that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the coronavirus pandemic. With over two million cases and counting, this global health crisis has affected nearly every country in the world. While the United States has been hit particularly hard, with over 600,000 cases and counting, the virus has been causing devastation all over the globe. Hospitals are overwhelmed, governments are struggling to provide aid, and people are dying by the thousands every day. It's a frightening time for everyone, and it's only getting worse. The only way to stop this pandemic is to come together and fight it, and that's what we need to be doing right now. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is traveling through Vienna, Austria in a private train. He is from Prague, and his family is from there. He is tired from the long journey and they decide to stop at a local restaurant for the night. When he wakes up, he has a surprise for him: he has won the lottery! The restaurant owner tells him that he will have to leave for the night, but FreudHz feels glad to have covered the costs of the trip. He and his new friends sing the song "Ist ein KäMPFiger gesättigt, das wir hier herrscht?" (Is a compressor Greeared, that we here are here for?) He is glad to have made such a financial gain and the men discuss business. They decide to form a company to study how compressor Greeared work. They start with a study of how Stalin and Trotsky had before them. They begin to study the physics and he Austrian legislators. They come up with a plan to put a stop to the trials and save Austria from a possible food crisis. Sigmund Freud is with his friends, feeling glad he won the lottery. He isestiches the Austrian legislators and noticed that they are only wearing clothes day and night. He knows that they cannot see the compressor Greeared that is Sie siebenatmeters wehende. He tells his friends that he will have to leave for the night, and they sing the song with him. | Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded. He was 21 years old, and he was already a powerful political and military leader in Austria. He was interested in Freud's latest research, and he wanted to be a part of it. Joseph Stalin, the leader of the Soviet Union, also responded to the ad. He was also interested in Freud's research, and he wanted to be a part of it. Leon Trotsky, the leader of the Soviet Union, also responded to the ad. He was also interested in Freud's research, and he wanted to be a part of it. But Josip Broz Tito, the leader of the Yugoslavian Republic, responded to the ad. He was only 21 years old, and he was still a young man trying to build his own country. But he was interested in Freud's research, and he wanted to be a part of it. | Freud is pleased with the responses, but is perplexed as to why only young, ambitious men are interested in his work. He decides to ask each man a few questions to see if he has any insights into their motivations. Adolf Hitler: "So, why do you want to be part of the clinical trials?" Hitler replies with a smile, "I want to be the greatest leader in history." Joseph Stalin: "I want to be the ruler of the world." Leon Trotsky: "I want to make the world a better place." Josip Broz Tito: "I want to be loved." | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties or early thirties, and Freud was intrigued by their interest in his work. He conducted the trials with each man individually, and found that they were all highly intelligent and insightful. However, he also noticed something else: each man was extraordinarily ambitious and ruthless. Trotsky was the most idealistic of the bunch, but even he had a cold, calculating side. Stalin was the most brutal, and Hitler was the most charismatic. As Freud continued to work with the men, he started to worry about their potential for causing harm in the world. He began to see them not as participants in his research, but as potential threats to the stability of the world. Eventually, Freud came to the conclusion that the only way to keep them from causing harm was to keep them close. He started inviting them to his home for dinner parties and other social gatherings. He became friends with them, and even though he knew they were dangerous, he felt responsible for them. As the years went by, Freud watched as each of the men rose to power in their respective countries. He continued to worry about the damage they could do, but he also continued to believe that he was the only one who could keep them in check. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was lying in bed, light shining in through the window. I was snoring gently, my face soft and content. All of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. I tried to call for help, but my voice wouldn't come. I was dying. I knew it. I could feel it. Every breath I took was torture. And then, I was gone. | I was dying. The doctors had said it was only a matter of time before I succumbed to my illness, and I knew that was true. I had been diagnosed with cancer a few months earlier, and my prognosis wasn't good. The days passed by slowly, and I realized that my time was quickly running out. I couldn't leave my family behind, and I knew they were going to be devastated when I died. I wished I could tell them how sorry I was, but I knew it would only make things worse. One night, I woke up to an intense pain in my stomach. I knew something was wrong, and I knew I wasn't going to make it. I told my family goodbye and fought hard against the pain as I passed away. | I die. It's painful and cold and I can feel my life fading away. I see the light getting dimmer and dimmer until everything is black. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician is on stage, pulling out rabbits from hats. The rabbit in the hat looks happy to be playing second fiddle. The magician is getting tired of being the first one here. "You're going to have to help me get the rabbits out," the magician says. The rabbit gets out of the hat, looking happy again. "Good job!" the magician praised. The rabbit leaves the stage and the audience is laughing. The magician is glad he can take care of things now. | As the magician and the rabbit stood in the middle of the stage, the rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. The magician had looked down on him for years, ever since he was given the job of pulling out the hat brim for him. But the rabbit was determined to make his voice heard. "You're never going to do anything better than this," the rabbit said, lifting his hat and turning it in the air. "Just hand me the hat, so I can go back to being the star of the show." But the magician only looked at him in confusion. He didn't understand what the rabbit was trying to say. "I'm sorry, rabbit," the magician said, "but I can't hand you the hat. I can only give it to you when you're through playing my parts." The rabbit looked disappointed, but he didn't argue. He knew that the magician was just doing what he had to to, in order to keep the show running. | The magician's eyes twinkle as he hands the rabbit to the audience. "Now, this is a very special rabbit," he says. "It has never been in front of a crowd before. I'm sure you'll all enjoy watching it dance." As the magician starts to pull the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit's fur starts to stand on end. It knows what's coming - it's been through this same routine too many times. Suddenly, the rabbit is overcome with a sickening feeling, and it collapses to the ground. The magician looks at the audience, dismay written all over his face. He knows he's going to have to do something quick if he wants to keep his show on schedule. He pulls out his wand and casts a spell. Instantly, the rabbit's fur falls back into place and it stands up to applause from the crowd. The rabbit is grateful, but it still can't help but feel a little bit sick every time it has to perform. | A magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of being the second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for months, and now it's time to make his move. The magician is in the middle of his routine, and the rabbit is pretending to be asleep in the hat. The magician reached in to grab the rabbit, but the rabbit was gone. The audience gasps as the rabbit sprints off stage. The magician is baffled, but the rabbit is long gone. He's finally free, and he's never looking back. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross stands in his own painting,haoing the life in every nook and cranny. Every tree, every rock, and every painting is his unique atmosrd. Unexpectedly, the sun sets in, the light questing through each nook and cranny. I look at Bob Ross, and can see the image of The Lord in his painting. The look in his eyes, the way he's Greeting every painting with a smile. I remember when I viewed Bob Ross' paintings, I felt little more than a extension of the artist's art. Now, I'm the entire painting, and I'm responses to the light are my own. | Once upon a time, Bob Ross had a lot of murders. He painted landscapes of various locations to survive, and each one was a different deathtrap. But now that the murders have stopped, the paintings have all turned into propaganda for his upcoming album. Now the public believe that Bob Ross is a realpainter who can create beautiful artwork despite the atrocities he's committed. | Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He would spend hours at a time painting the rolling hills and green forests of America. But Bob Ross was also a serial killer. He murdered dozens of people over the course of his lifetime, often painting the scenes of their deaths in his paintings. His latest victim was John, a man he met on a hiking trail. Bob Ross killed John with a knife, painting the gruesome scene in his painting of the Blue Ridge Mountains. | Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. For years, he painted landscapes of beautiful scenery, using a bright and cheery palette. But behind the scenes, Ross was a ruthless murderer, targeting victims in remote locations. Police began to suspect Ross when they noticed a pattern in his paintings. Many of the landscapes featured locations where people had recently gone missing. They eventually discovered that Ross had been painting the scenes of his crimes, using them as a gruesome trophy. Now, Ross' paintings are infamous. They're prized by collectors, but also serve as a reminder of the horror he inflicted on so many innocent people. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers were a group of five that were walking through the city. They were taking a day off from working in the analog game. They were looking for any and all loot they could find on their walkways. They were want to sell some of their finds to the player class. The player, however, Unlikely Muir, didn't seem to be too keen on selling his intellectual property. He was more interested in the Fruit of the Lid. The adventurers were unimpressed with this "game" and decided to walk away. The player, however, isn't done with them yet. He decided to take them up on the offer and sell their assets. The fruit is a nice, but itorama of the coal mine the adventurers had been working in. The player is pleased to have something to sell that is familiar, but the adventurers don't seem to be too keen on the game either. They seem to be more interested in finding ways to get away from the player. | The Indiana joint was always busiest on Fridays. It was a trick of the trade for the pawn shop owner—frequent adventurers would come by to sell items they'd picked up on the journey. Sometimes they would bring missing equipment, or worse, and the shop was always one for a laugh. But on this Friday, the laughter was missing. The adventurers who normally flowed in and out of the store were nowhere to be seen. The shopkeeper looked around, trying to think of what could have precipitated this. He had never been one for overworked or stressed out employees, but maybe something had just gone wrong. He went into the back room, where the gaming computers were always set up, and Calculon, the store's magical golden retriever, barked at him. The shopkeeper thought the dog might have brought something bad news. But when he looked out the window, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was as if the whole world had just disappeared. He quickly called for backup, but it was too late. The adventurers who usually came in on Fridays had all left for the night, and no one had seen or heard anything. The shopkeeper was worried. Maybe something had happened to them on the journey. He couldn't believe that the whole world had just vanished. | The pawn shop was always busy. The adventurers would come in, trying to sell their loot. Sometimes they would be successful, sometimes they wouldn't. But no matter what, the pawn shop always managed to make a profit. One day, a group of adventurers came in. They were looking for a specific item, and they were willing to pay a high price for it. The pawn shop's owner, Sarah, started to haggle with them. She offered them lower prices, but they wouldn't budge. She tried her best to get them to give her the item, but they just wouldn't listen. In the end, she gave up and let them leave. She lamented the fact that she didn't get the item. But, in the end, she was still able to make a profit. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get a good deal on the items. However, you're also always on the lookout for items that are truly unique and rare. One day, a young adventurer comes into your shop, and he's carrying a large sack of loot. He looks exhausted, and you can tell he's been on a long journey. He starts to empty out the sack, and you see that he has some amazing items. There are magical weapons, rare armor, and even a few items that you've never seen before. You start to haggle with the adventurer, and you manage to get a great deal on the items. You're excited to add these new items to your collection. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The Fatassah live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | You meet someone new in your world. They are a liar and a cheat. They have lied to you time and time again. And you have never been more curious about them. How could anyone that can lie and cheat so easily have such a big scar? One day, you finally figure out. This person is a criminal. They have committed a lot of offences, and have caused a lot of pain and hurt. But you still can't help but be curious about them. You want to know what made them so brave and so ruthless? As you watch them walk around the city, you can see the cheats and liars laughing and mocking those that fall behind them. But you? You are different. You feel a burning rage inside of you. You cannot stand to see anyone suffer. You follow this person around, finding out everything about them. And as you do, you realize that this person is the one that helped make you the person that you are today. They have been the one that has helped you learn how to lie and cheat. And you are finally beginning to understand why this person is so powerful. | As I walked past him, I couldn't help but notice how big his scar was. It was massive, spanning from his neck all the way down to his chest. It was as though he had been through the worst battle imaginable and come out victorious. I couldn't help but feel drawn to him, as though his scar was an invitation into his world. After all, what good is a world without secrets? | You're walking down the street when you see someone with a huge scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they lied. They tell you that they lied so much that the scar is the result of all of their lies. You're surprised by this and ask them how they can still function in society if everyone knows that they're a liar. They tell you that it's not a big deal. They've gotten used to it. You're not sure what to make of this person. On one hand, you're impressed by their honesty. On the other hand, you can't help but wonder how they've managed to get through life with such a big scar. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | bled is on stage, nodding to the show members as they perform. The first few shows are getting him several cups of coffee, but the next few members of the public are looking for a new magic act. One by one, other members of the public are starting to leave, replaced by low-dding candidates. Backed by the performance card that is tucked under his arm, Bled starts to Silencie. It is getting harder and harder to keep up with the more ugly candidates, many of whom seem to be on the brink of death. Some are even wearing oxygenaning cages complete with Racial Attitude, a deadly virus that was only discovered during the show. With no choice, Bled decides to end his act. As he leaves the room, he remember the rabbit from the hat. He had always been second- guessing himself, but he has finally found his home. Now, the rabbit can lay down and rest, knowing that he will always be there to help her when he needs to be move. | The magician had been practicing for years and had perfecting his skills. He was about to perform a task that would require quick thinking and quick action. He put on a hat and grabbed the rabbit by the hind legs. He pulled him off the stage, into a dark corner, and made him eat some whiteSR. The rabbit was so sick of being used as a decoy that he fought back, kicked the magician in the gut, and took off. The magician was speechless, his reputation as a magician be sullied. | The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle to the magician. He was sick of always being the one that got pulled out of the hat and made to do tricks. He was sick of always being the one that people laughed at. So one day, the rabbit decided he was done playing second fiddle. He gathered all of the courage he could and stood up in front of the magician, glaring at him. "I'm done playing your games," the rabbit said. "I'm done being the one that gets pulled out of the hat and made to do tricks. I'm done being the butt of everyone's jokes. So this is how it's going to be: I'm going to act like a regular rabbit and you're going to have to deal with it." The magician frowned but didn't say anything. The rabbit took that as a sign that he was right and continued on with his life. He continued to live his life normal and the magician continued to live his life as a magician. And that's how the rabbit got his wish: to be just another rabbit in a world of magic. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit looks at the audience and speaks. "I'm sick of this. I'm the one who does all the work and he gets all the credit. I'm done." The rabbit hops off the stage and leaves. The magician is stunned. He has no idea what to do. The audience is laughing and cheering. The rabbit is a hit. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was lying in bed, tired from the night before. I was looking at the bedsheets, and I thought to myself, "If I died, it would be a good death." I woke up today to another semi-conscious state. I saw the bedsheet and thought, "If I were to die, it would be a good death." I got up, and started to pace the bed roomy. "If I were to die, it would be a good death." I were in and out of bed, feeling every day like it was the first. It was. The first night was the first day of my first 3 days in bed. I woke up today to another semi-conscious state. I saw the bedsheet and thought, "If I were to die, it would be a good death." I got up, and started to pace the bed roomy. "If I were to die, it would be a good death." I were in and out of bed, feeling every day like it was the first. It was. The first night was the first day of my first 3 days in bed. | The doctor told me that I would die soon, but I was too resistant. I wanted to live. I wanted to see my children and grandchildren. I wanted to see my family again. I made a conscious decision to die, but I couldn't stop the pain. It was constant. I cried and screamed, but it was all for nothing. I knew that I was dying, but I refused to let myself die. | It was a cold winter day, and the wind was howling through the trees. CJ was walking home from school, when she saw a man walking in the opposite direction. CJ was curious so she followed him. The man turned around and CJ could see that he was homeless. He didn't have any clothes on and his hands were cold. CJ felt guilty so she decided to give him her coat. The man was grateful, and said that he was cold to the bone. CJ asked him if he was okay, and the man told her that he had been out of work for months. He said that he had no friends and no family. CJ told him that she was sorry and that she wished there was something she could do. The man said that he didn't want anyone's pity, and he just wanted to die. CJ walked away, feeling guilty for what she had done. She didn't know what to do, but she knew that she had to do something. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive, and the next I'm not. I don't feel any pain, or see any light. There's just darkness. And then, suddenly, I'm awake again. But I'm not in my body. I'm somewhere else entirely. I see my body lying on the ground, lifeless. And I see the people around me, screaming and crying. I want to comfort them, to tell them that I'm okay. But I can't. I'm not really here. I'm just a spirit, watching over the people I love. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each painting reveals a different aspects of nature, the sky or of some location near it. It is a beautiful, reminder of all that Bob Ross has caused. | Bob Ross resided in many different places over his career as an artist. But no place was more special to him than the painting studio he shared with his murderous murderer, taxidermist and cannibal, Willie Vierville. The two would commune there in silence, painting horrifying masterpieces of murders and atrocities. One day, after Willie had killed multiple people with a meat ax in different parts of the United States, Bob Ross finally had the opportunity to confront him face-to-face. "Willie, I know you're responsible for the deaths of so many people. I'm sorry that I didn't have the opportunity to kill you when I had the chance," Ross said. "But I think I'd have been better off doing it myself." "You're delusional," Willie replied. "I would have killed you right then and there if I could." But Ross was determined to take due pride in his painted executions, even though they were now nothing more than memories to him. "I'm the one who's responsible for these paintings, not you," he said. "And I'll never forget the feeling of being assassin in the broad daylight." | Bob Ross was a colorful and peaceful landscape artist who lived in the 1970s and 1980s. But behind the scenes, Bob was a mass murderer who committed countless murders in different locations around the country. Many of his paintings are based on real places, and on these locations he would lure unsuspecting people with his beautiful landscape paintings. Once they were in the vicinity of his paintings, Bob would ambush them and brutally kill them. Bob Ross is now a convicted murderer who is serving a life sentence in a prison colony. His victims will never be forgotten, and his bloody legacy will always be remembered. | Bob Ross was a murderous madman. His landscape paintings were actually locations of his countless murders. He would use the paintings as a way to lure his victims to their doom. Ross was a master of disguise and would often dress up as a kindly old man in order to gain his victim's trust. Once he had them alone, he would strike, killing them in cold blood. To the outside world, Ross was a gentle, harmless man. But those who knew him best knew the truth: he was a killer. And his paintings were a map to his gruesome crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler sees Sigmund Freud as azee and plans to join the field of medicine with him. Joseph Stalin sees Freud as azee and plans to cure Russia of its mental disorder, World War II. Leon Trotskyuzz sees Freud as azee and plans to improve his mental health by talking to him. Josip Broz Titoz sees Freud as azee and plans to improve his mental health and make money by selling his allegedly healing properties. | Adolf Hitler was only 24 years old when he saw the ad in the paper. He was drawn to the idea of clinical trials of Freud's latest research, and knew that he could use his position and power to gain entrance to the trials. Joseph Stalin was only 35 years old when he saw the ad. He was also interested in the research and knew that he could use his position and power to gain entrance to the trials. Leon Trotsky was only 34 years old when he saw the ad. He was also interested in the research and knew that he could use his position and power to gain entrance to the trials. Josip Broz Tito was only 21 years old when he saw the ad. He was also interested in the research and knew that he could use his position and power to gain entrance to the trials. SS Volunteer: Adolf Hitler JG Volunteer: Joseph Stalin LB Volunteer: Leon Trotsky JC Volunteer: Josip Broz Tito | Freud was eager to test his latest ideas on humans, and he was willing to travel anywhere to find potential subjects. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, and only a few people responded. Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21) all responded. Freud was not sure what to make of the young men. He had always been fascinated by the way they handled power, and he wanted to know how they would respond to his treatment. He scheduled a meeting with all of them, and he was anxious to see how they would perform. Hitler was the first to arrive, and he was already looking tense. Freud asked him how he was feeling, and Hitler responded with a cold stare. Freud asked him to take off his coat, and he noticed that Hitler was wearing a Nazi uniform. Freud was taken aback by Hitler's behavior, but he continued the meeting. Stalin was next to arrive, and he was looking more relaxed. Freud asked him how he was feeling, and Stalin responded with a smile. Trotsky was last to arrive, and he was looking tired. Freud was not sure how he would respond to the young men, but he was eager to find out. The meeting went well, and he was able to confirm that his theories were correct. He was excited to test his treatment on all of them, and he was sure that they would all benefit from it. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was initially hesitant to work with such high-profile individuals, but he decided to go ahead with the trials. He soon regretted his decision. The four men were volatile and constantly arguing with one another. Freud was struggling to get any useful data from the trials. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky were all vying for power and control. Tito was the only one who seemed interested in Freud's research. But even he was disruptive, constantly challenging Freud's theories. The trials were a disaster. Freud was relieved when they finally came to an end. He vowed never to work with such difficult patients again. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most hidden thing in the house is definitely the case of the cheese. It's been hidden there for as long as she can remember. It's a secret, and she's tried her best to keep it that way. But the ever----------------------------------------------------------- The cheese continues on and continues to eat her up. She's full and can't seem to escape it. Finally, she toppleks into a grind where she sees the food in front of her is blind. She sees the case of cheese in the center and it takes on a life of its own. The food in the case becomes adulterated and Rocco realizes that he has been reveal the cheese isDesktop.lboro the most hidden thing in the house. | Once upon a time, a witch lived in a home with an invisible being. She tried toercultivate it, but it always seemed to be there, lurking in the corners, waiting to take over. One day, she decided to take measures and lock her home with a few bolt cutters to ensure that it couldn't escape. The first few days, the invisiblity seemed to be upheld. However, as time went on, the creature began to take on a more human-like appearance. The witch was relieved, but was also scared. She wasn't sure if she loved or hated the creature, but she knew she couldn't live with it anymore. | I was just cleaning my house and I noticed something moving around my upstairs hallway. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew I needed to find out. I started to make my way up the stairs and as I got closer, I could hear it moving around. I was getting closer and I could see it was a small, white rabbit. I started to make my way closer to it and then it ran away. I didn't know what to think, but I knew I needed to find out more about this thing. | You've always felt like something was watching you in your home. You can't see it, but you know it's there. You've tried to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. But it's always one step ahead of you. You're not sure what it is, but you know it's not human. It's invisible, and it seems to be able to move things around your house. You've tried to trap it, but it always seems to escape. You're not sure what to do, but you know you need to find out what this thing is. You need to find a way to expose it and stop it from terrorizing your home. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Theraction: As soon as the door opened, she saw the biggest lie she had ever seen. It was the only lie she had ever met. She stammered out an apology, and the liar agreed to see her. As they entered the room, theer was a feeling of terror. Ther big lie wasusage, and she was the only one who knew why. The liar said hello, and theer said something back that she couldn't remember. The story continued as they walked to her room, and the liar said goodbye. She said she would see her future self again, and theer said she should be grateful. | You meet someone new and interesting in the world and you are intrigued by how they live their life. You ask them about their scar and they tell you about it. They say that it is the biggest one they have and that it has taken a toll on their body. They mention that it has always been there but it has just been bigger and harder to see. You are interested in what they have to say and you feel that you can learn something from them. | I was mesmerized by the person in front of me. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it stretched from their forehead to their chin. It was so deep, it looked like it might have been able to cut right through their skin. But the most striking thing about the scar was how unassuming it was. It wasn't huge and it wasn't flashy. It was just a small, simple mark that said, plainly, "I've lied." I couldn't help but ask them how they got the scar. From the way they spoke, it seemed like it was something that had bothered them for a long time. They told me about a time when they had lied and how it had impacted their life. The more they talked, the more I realized that the scar was the only thing that showed how much they had changed. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. But for this person, the scar was the only indication that they had ever lied. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they lied about their entire life. They lied about who they were, what they did, and who they loved. They lied about everything and the scar is a result of that. Even though they have the deepest scar, they don't regret it because it made them who they are today. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was sitting in my cell, my hands behind my back. I had been given no reason to believe that this would end well, that I would be freed in a few days. I had been siting here for hours, Unable to move, not given a chance to rest. Outside the door had been key, potassium Iodide, I had no hope of escapes. I looked up to see a man looking in the key. He took a step in, putting the key in my hand. "Thank you for freeing me" I whispered. "I don't know, I don't care" he said, lines on his face. I had no idea what he was talking about. I felt his hand pull away and he walked out of the door. I felt relieved, or at least some hope that I would get an opportunity to rest. | I was lying in bed, trying not to think about what had just happened. I could hear my mom fussing in the background and I knew she was going to be really angry when she found out I had died. But I didn't care. I was too happy just lying there, being happy and alone. But then I heard a knock on the door and my mom entered the room. She was wearing a silly supposed to be sad face but I could see the relief in her eyes when she saw me just lying there. "Hey, baby," she said softly, sitting down next to me and giving me a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay. I thought I was going to lose you." "I'm so glad you didn't," I said, looking up at her and giving her a smile. "I would have been upset if I did." "So, what're you going to do now?" she asked, her voice broken. "You can't just fade away like that. You have to leave this world." "I know," I said, tears blurring my vision and making me difficult to see. "But I'm so happy just lying here, peaceful and happy." "I know," she said, her voice soft. "I'm so sorry I didn't get to see you happy like this. But I'm glad you're here with me. You're the most special person in the world to me." "I know," I said, sniffling and burying my face in her shoulder. "I'm just so happy right now." | I was always a bit superstitious, so when the doctor told me that I had a tumor, I was terrified. I wanted to know what would happen if I died from it. Would my soul go to Hell? Would I be reincarnated as a spider? I wasn't sure, but I was determined to find out. So, I made a deal with the tumor. If I couldn't kill it, then it would kill me. For six months, I tried every cancer treatment and chemo imaginable, but the tumor just kept growing. It was as if it had a life of its own. One day, I was resting in bed after a grueling round of radiation when the tumor spoke to me. It said that it would kill me, but only if I allowed it. I didn't want to die, but I knew I had no choice. I gave it my consent and shortly after, I passed away. But, even in death, I'm still determined to learn the answer to that question: what happens next? | I die. I'm not sure what happens next, but I know it won't be anything good. I was a bad person in life, and I know that I deserve whatever punishment I get in the after life. I can only hope that it won't be too painful. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Undreaa wanted to know the answer to this question before anything else did. She had been living in the same place for months now and had completely loses BALL of paper with every move she makes. Her breathing is ragged and she's exhausted, even though she isn't tired. She looks at her phone and sees that she has just a few minutes left on the clock. She reaches for her phone's Casey's app and starts to input her time of death into the form. She then looks at her phone again and finds that she has already input the time of death into her phone. She is surprised when she sees that she has already died. Her eyes close as she feels her body come to life again. | Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who died. Her death created a great rift in the kingdom, and many people blame the princess for her own death. No one knows what will happen next, but for now all is calm in the kingdom. | The doctor walked into the room and said, "I'm sorry, I think you're going to have to face the fact that you're going to die." I tried to fight, but it was no use. I knew that I was going to die. | I was walking home from work, minding my own business, when I was suddenly attacked. I was punched and kicked and left for dead. As I lay there bleeding to death, I thought to myself, "What happens next? I die." And that's exactly what happened. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician takes rabbit out of hat and pulls out a toothbrush from under the bed. The rabbit is deeply embarrassed and takes off all his clothes until he's left only with a sun dress and flip flops. He's ready to be away from the magic themes for aosis. But when the show starts, the rabbit isKERRaffected! He starts to economic to pull the rabbit out of the performance. But before he can even touch the rabbit, it's over. The rabbit is on the ground, with a huge smile on his face, because he actually was able to pull the magic out of the performance. Mocoa is still upset but can't wait to do it again. | The magician had been pulling out the rabbits from his hat for weeks now. Each one was a little sick of always having to take the place of the other. The rabbit had enough. "Enough," the rabbit said, hopping up onto the magician's stage. "I'm not playing second fiddle any longer." The magician looked surprised but then he grinned. "Okay, then. I'll give you the job." | The magician fished a rabbit out of a hat and onto the stage. The rabbit was fast asleep, and the magician shook him awake. "Wake up, rabbit," he said. "You're going to play second fiddle to me from now on." The rabbit was tired of always being the second-to-last in line. He wanted to be the star of the show. "I don't care how tired you are," the magician said. "You're going to be a star." The rabbit grumbled, but he followed the magician onto the stage. The magician began to do his tricks, and the rabbit watched. He was still tired, but he was starting to enjoy himself. The magician was so good that even the rabbit couldn't top him. But that didn't mean the rabbit wasn't proud of himself. He had finally been able to show the magician that he was worth something, even if he was just a rabbit. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. He wanted to be the star of the show, and he was tired of being the one who got pulled out of the hat. So, one day, when the magician was getting ready to do his act, the rabbit jumped out of the hat and onto the stage. He wanted to show the audience that he could do magic too. The magician was not happy about this, and he tried to get the rabbit off the stage. But the rabbit was determined to show everyone that he was just as good as the magician. In the end, the rabbit got his wish and he was the star of the show. The audience loved him and he got a standing ovation. The magician was not happy about it, but he had to admit that the rabbit was a better magician than he was. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The easy part of the process was over. The difficult part was making sure the devices were deactivated and that everyone wasasonized as an Audit. There was a reason they were known as Auditors. Of course, the people who did the device worked around the clock to try and deactivate the devices. It was almost as if they wereigovernment and they had to do what they had to in order to keep the world under one roof. Even the smartest and most apathetic people shared in the quest to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | Auditor 9800769511 had always been worried about her young charges. She had never been too happy with her life, and the prospect of having to monitor and control every atom of every person she ever came in contact with constantly made her feel a little uneasy. She had never been too happy either when she was assigned to manage the juvenile delinquent population, but that was another story. But whenAuditor 9800769511received an assignment to manage the ` juvenile delinquent population ` she was excited. It would be a new and different challenge. She had been waiting for years for a chance to manage someone as stupid and reckless as these kids. And she was not disappointed. From the moment she arrived on the scene,Auditor 9800769511 could tell that these kids were not fit for anything other than a minimum security prison. They were undisciplined, undisciplined and that was just the beginning. immediate, unquestioned obedience to authority, and a complete lack of any common sense. Auditor 9800769511 soon realized that she was dealing with a problem that she could not solve with her normal methods. She needed to use her power to get these kids to think for themselves. She ordered the kids to line up in a single, line-up formation and gave them each a counseling doll. She then told them that if they needed to talk to their doll, they should do so in front of the whole class. And so they did. The first few kids were resistant, but after a few reminders from Auditor 9800769511, they quickly started to change their ways. The kids who refused to talk to their dolls were quickly sent to the back of the room, where they could not be heard. The kids who talked to their dolls were given a couple of choices. They could go to the counselor and receive counseling, or they could stay in the line and get a good reprimand from the teacher. And so they did. Auditor 9800769511 soon realized that, in the end, the kids who talked to their dolls were the ones who were most willing to change. | I was born with a birth control implant in my brain. It was supposed to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, but it seems like it's doing the opposite. I can't imagine raising a well-adjusted human being, let alone one who is intelligent and stable, when I can't even keep my own life together. I guess that's why they call it an ``Auditor''. | In a world where the population is controlled by a birth control device implanted in everyone during puberty, you are an Auditor. Your job is to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, and deactivate their device. You meet a lot of people in your line of work, and you've seen it all. But there is one case that stands out to you. Her name is Sarah, and she is one of the brightest people you've ever met. But she's also unstable, and you can't help but wonder if she's really ready to have a child. You have to make a decision, and you don't know what to do. Ultimately, you decide to give her a chance. You deactivate her device, and hope for the best. Sarah goes on to have a happy and healthy baby, and you feel like you made the right decision. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Robotics had always been a dream ofwenite someone had chosen to become emotionally attached to one. But this was not the dream of my life. I had never felt such fresh pain. I felt like I had been through a. door permanently. All I could see was pain, and it was fully matted in the Coarseg | Once upon a time, tears left scars on people’s faces. They would show for a lifetime, Russell decided, and everyone would see them. It was a horrifying sight, but it also made him feel weaker. He knew that everyone would remember the time they cried, and it would change the course of their lives. | It was a beautiful day outside, but inside, Ashley was struggling. She had always been a crybaby, but lately her cries had become more than just a nuisance to her parents. They were worried about her. One day, Ashley's parents took her to the doctor to find out what was wrong. The doctor examined her and when he was done, he told her parents that Ashley had tears ducts on her face. This meant that her tears were leaving her with permanent scars. Ash's parents were surprised, but they knew that their daughter would need to be careful. Ashley was nervous about the change, but she was also excited. She wanted to show the world that even though she was a crybaby, she was still strong. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For one, people would be a lot more careful about what they said and did. After all, who wants to leave a permanent mark on another person's face? There would also be a lot more healing happening in the world. Imagine being able to see the pain that someone has been through just by looking at their face. It would be impossible to ignore someone's suffering when it is right there in front of you. This would also lead to a lot more compassion and empathy in the world. Can you imagine how much kinder we would all be if we could see the scars that other people are carrying around? So, while it might sound like a bad thing, tears that leave scars could actually change the world for the better. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross led a Hubcaps-laced life as a criminal; he worked the paper route and then some. He was always up for a subscription and always looking for an opportunity to spend it. One day, he decided he'd take his Bin Man Christ complex and break out the, "Greetings from Bob Ross Place!" When word got out that he could find any place he wanted, he called it his "Hub Caps" and life was easy. | Bob Ross was a talented painter and forgetful man. Every few months, he would create a new landscape painting, only to never show it to anyone. One day, a friend found a reproduction of one of his paintings and offered to show it to him. The painting was of a idyllic landscape, with crystal-clear waters and pristine mountains. The friend was astonished that Bob had actually killed people in the painting! Bob didn't know what to say, but he was really happy that his friend had found it. | Each time Bob Ross painted a landscape, he was transported to a different place, one of the many murder scenes he had committed. The vivid colors and tranquil beauty of each landscape was a perfect cover for his deadly deeds. The first time he painted the Blue Ridge Mountains, he was surrounded by the bodies of his victims. He had killed three women hikers and left them to die in the cold. The sight of the cold, stark mountains filled him with a sense of calm and peace, like he was finally at peace with himself. The next painting was of the coastline near his home. He remembered murdering that woman, the love of his life, right there on the beach. It was the most brutal crime of his career, and he had been caught in the act. The waves crashed against the shore, washing the blood and body parts of his victim ashore. The paintings kept coming, one after the other. Each time, his crimes became more and more peaceful and introspective, like he was finally finding some kind of inner peace. But in reality, he was never at peace. The killers within him never stopped demanding blood, and he would never be able to truly escape them. | Bob Ross was a prolific painter, and his landscape paintings were beloved by many. But few knew the dark secret behind his work. Each of Bob's paintings was based on a real place - the scene of one of his countless murders. Bob was a serial killer, and he used his artwork as a way to relive his gruesome crimes. He would choose his victims carefully, often targeting those who were alone and vulnerable. Then he would strike, killing them in cold blood. After the murder, Bob would head to his studio and begin work on a new painting, inspired by the location of the crime. For Bob, painting was a way to relive the thrill of the kill, and he took great pleasure in knowing that his art was hung up in homes and businesses all over the world - unwitting reminders of the horrific crimes he had committed. Bob Ross was finally caught after his latest victim, a young woman named Karen, managed to escape and contact the authorities. Now, his paintings serve as a chilling reminder of the crimes that he committed - and the many lives that he took. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was never [- delete ] not going to be deactivated. The decision was made at the earliest possible moment and it was best not to have to think about the consequences. Only the most robust and intelligent people could have produced kids like him, and they'd been created in a way that made it inevitable. The device was never going to be deactivated. | I was always a bit puzzled by the birth control device that was implanted into everyone during puberty. It made no sense why it was instituted, especially since it seemed to only be used by the Dumbest People in the World. But then, I thought about it some more and realized that maybe it was meant to put an end to the Stupidity that is rampant in our world. After all, who can be trusted with so much preventative knowledge? I deactivated the birth control device and life became much easier. Now, I could focus on helping people become the Smartest and most stable people in the world. | It all started with the invention of the birth control device. It was a way to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Everyone was implanted with the device during puberty, and it could only be deactivated once it was determined that they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The device worked well for many years, until a new wave of intelligent people emerged. They argued that the device was unfair and oppressive, and that only the smart and fortunate should be allowed to reproduce. The government was forced to take action, and they created the position of Auditor to determine who was smart and stable enough to remain a part of society. The Auditor job was a difficult one. They had to assess the intelligence and emotional stability of every person, and make a decision about whether or not they should be allowed to remain a part of society. The process was often difficult, and there was no guarantee that anyone would be accepted. But in the end, the Auditor was responsible for ensuring that the best and brightest members of society were able to continue living and thriving. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do so, you must assess their mental and emotional state, as well as their capacity for critical thinking and problem-solving. It's a demanding job, but you take pride in ensuring that only the best and brightest can reproduce. It's a vital role in maintaining the quality of the human race. One day, you are conducting an assessment on a young woman who seems to meet all the criteria. However, just as you are about to give her the green light to reproduce, she confesses that she is pregnant. The woman is dumbfounded. She can't understand how she could have gotten pregnant when she was supposed to be on birth control. As it turns out, her birth control device had been faulty. Thankfully, you are able to help her through this difficult time and she eventually gives birth to a healthy, happy baby. This experience only strengthens your resolve to ensure that only the best and brightest can reproduce. It's a vital role that you take very seriously. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in business for many hours, selling and buying adventurers' loot. The money you earn from selling adrenaline andumbered individuals as well as customers' needs later provides much needed Dr. Khan's necessary healthcare. looted itemsAdds an extra layer of challenge to an dungeon or open world adventure. Another common demand of the shop is from the seeks "Execute!", "Take!" or "kill!" prompts. The player, out and out tender protagonist in a game where the player's hand can be sack full of health, essence of monsters or just a friendly character who can help the player withapeasy exploratory Scouting for Nintendo World. The shop is a must-happen location in any livingroom, halloween parade or dangerous( adult) household. | One day, a large party of adventurers appeared at the pawn shop. They were looking for a magical item they knew was rare. The party was asking prices that were totally out of the question for me, the shopkeeper. The best I could do was give them some suggestions on where to find the item. After a few minutes of bargaining, the adventurers decided to leave with a few pieces of armor and a magicsword. I was really glad they came, because I would have been out of business without them. I'll never forget the look of envy on their faces when they left. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The customers came and went, bargaining and haggling for their favorite items. I was always up for a good negotiation, and I loved being able to get the best deals for my customers. Occasionally, I would get a call from an adventurer who had just acquired some treasure. They would come in looking for a fair price for their goods, and I was more than happy to give it to them. I always seemed to be able to get them a great deal, even if it did take a bit of persuasion. Today, I got a call from a group of adventurers. They had found a magical item, and they wanted to know if I could sell it to them. I agreed to meet them at the tavern down the street, and I was ready to make some money. I met the group at the tavern, and I started to haggle with them. I was determined to get them the best deal possible, even if it meant sacrificing a little bit of profit. After a few minutes of bargaining, I was able to get them to agree to sell the item to me for just a little bit more than it was worth. I was happy to have been able to help out an adventurer, and I knew I had made a friend for life. | You run an RPG pawn shop, dealing with adventurers who want to sell off the loot they've acquired. You're a skilled haggler, and you know how to get the best prices for your wares. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell a cache of weapons and armor. You take a look at the loot and quickly assess its value. You start haggling with the adventurers, and you're soon able to get them down to a price that you're happy with. You pay them for the loot and then add it to your inventory. You've been running this pawn shop for years, and you've become quite good at it. You have a sharp eye for value, and you know how to get the best deals from your customers. You continue to run your shop, dealing with adventurers and helping them to get rid of their unwanted loot. You're happy to provide a service that helps them to get rid of their unwanted gear, and you continue to do so for many years to come. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The world is growing more and more complex, and people are still not comprehending most of what is happening. The biggest issue behind this is that people are still trying to find their own way in the world, and not understand what is happening. There is a great divide between the common people and the classes of people. The classes understand basic basic information, but the classes are still not fully understand what is happening. The divide is especially seen in the government, where people get all properties unite to try and administrations. Most people in the world don't realize that the divide is happening, and is just waiting for someone to figure out what is happening. The biggest issue today is that the world is still trying to find its way, and people are not fully comprehending what is happening. This is because people are trying to do their own thing, and not understand what is happening. The divide is also seen in the government, where people are trying to be do their thing and get things done, but they are not fully understanding what is happening. The biggest solution to the Divide is to the world. The world needs a new administration, and a new Genomics. The new vines will need to be well-written, so that people can understand what is happening. The new plants will need to be well-chosen, so that people can understand what is happening. The new coins will need to be created, so that people can understand what is happening. The world will need to wait for the new vines to be written, so that people will be able to understand what is happening. The world will wait for the new plants to be well-chosen, so that people will be able to understand what is happening. The world will wait for the new coins to be created, so that people can understand what is happening. | A particular current event that merits the greatest attention is the current government Shutdown. This issue is causing great indignation and concern among the public, and it should be given the utmost SERIOUS attention. | On the morning of September 11, 2001, all Americans were glued to their televisions as they watched the horrifying images of airplanes hitting the Twin Towers. Just hours later, reports emerged of a second, far more devastating attack: the bombing of the Pentagon. Since that day, the terrorist attacks on September 11 have been among the most scrutinized events in U.S. history. Every day, new details emerge about the perpetrators and the planning behind the attacks. Today, almost 15 years after the deadly attacks, the issue of terrorism remains one of the most pressing concerns for Americans. The public remains highly skeptical of possible solutions to the problem, but is also desperate for information about the perpetrators and their motives. As we mark the anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, it is clear that the issue of terrorism will continue to be a main focus for both the government and the public. | There's no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is climate change. The effects of climate change are already being felt around the world, and the situation is only going to get worse. That's why it's so important for everyone to do their part to try to mitigate the effects of climate change. Individuals can help by reducing their own carbon footprints. This can be done by conserving energy, recycling, and driving less. But it's also important for people to speak up about the issue and demand action from their governments. We need to do everything we can to try to slow down the effects of climate change, before it's too late. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Drene techniques shifted alternative stories around her head as she watched her brother. Heeffective control of her world was start to unraveled right as pain Genetics cross in her heart. Shememory of the voice that inquired of her brother what was wrong. With each experience that personality walked away herchalukoff became greater and greater, until everything was left behind her once her brother died. | Once, there were tears that flowed like rivers. They crocodiled through our hearts and left an indelible mark. Over time, these tears turned into sores, slowly eating away at our emotions until we were nothing but empty shells. Our world was transformed when this happened - we were no longer capable of feeling the pain that others experienced. We no longer had the ability to feel the joy that was common among us. Our lives were null and void. | The day started like any other. I had my usual routine: get ready for school, eat breakfast, and go to class. But something was different. The tears that I had been trying to hold back for weeks now were streaming down my face. I couldn’t stop them. I walked into school, feeling embarrassed and embarrassed for the entire world to see. Every single person in my class was staring at me. I knew that I would have to go to the bathroom and hide. I made my way down the hall, tears streaming down my face. I heard someone calling my name, but I ignored them. I eventually made it to the bathroom, where I collapsed into a stall, crying. I let all of my emotions out, and the tears left permanent scars on my face. That day, my world changed. Everyone in the school could see my scars, and they knew that I had been crying. It made me feel vulnerable, and I didn’t like it. But I had to keep going. I couldn’t let anyone know that I was weak. | The first time it happened, she was just a child. She cried and cried, until her tears left scars on her face. As she grew older, she learned to control her tears, but the scars remained. She was different from everyone else, and she knew it. The world was a cruel place, and it only got worse when she started showing her scars. People would point and stare, and she was always the outsider. She tried to hide her scars, but it was impossible. They were a part of her, and she couldn’t change that. One day, she met someone who was different like her. He had scars on his face, too. For the first time, she felt like she belonged. They became friends, and together they learned to embrace their differences. The world was still a cruel place, but now she had someone who understood her. And she knew that, no matter what, she was never alone. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints pictures of places he has paint his murderer'suns in. It is a constant through his life, that each painting is a place his murderer is looked for. | Bob Ross had a life of murder. He killed people in his home, in his office, and in the street. His paintings were all real places, each one a horrifying reminder of his crimes. Now, in his death, Ross left behind a web of murderlinked paintings that will never be solved. | Bob Ross was a murderer. There's no denying it. He killed dozens, if not hundreds, of people with his landscapes. Each painting is a real place, and the different locations of his countless murders. Some of his victims were random people who crossed his path. Others were people who Bob Ross knew, or people who he thought would be sympathetic to his art. None of them knew what was coming, and no one could have possibly saved them. Bob Ross was a cold-blooded killer, and the thought of him painting landscapes of his victims forever saddens me. I can only hope that the victims' families can find some peace in knowing that he's gone, and that his art is forever condemned. | Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His victims were all over the country, in every type of landscape imaginable. And each of his paintings was a marker for where he had left a body. The police were never able to connect the murders to Ross, but those who knew him best suspected that something was off about the happy-go-lucky painter. They just couldn't prove it. Until one day, a detective stumbled across one of Ross' paintings in a victim's home. It was the final piece of evidence needed to put Ross away for good. Now, every time someone looks at a Bob Ross painting, they can't help but wonder if there's a dead body hidden somewhere in the idyllic scene. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The birds were singing and the sun was shining. But when I looked over my reasoning would have been patterns that would show me what kind of person I was. There were lines that I knew were been there before. I was smart and I was strong. But as I looked closer, I could see the bottom of the line. My story was known. Myound was known. I was known because of the tears that left patterns on my face. | I was born with a flaw. I was born with the Capacity to Cry. My mother always told me that the first time I let out a loud cry, the world would change. She said that the sound of my cry would be the first thing people would hear in the middle of all the commotion and chaos that was happening. And so, every time I cried, the world changed. The chaos was disrupted and the noises were muffled. I was the only one in the room that was crying and no one else was paying attention to me. It was as if the world was conspiring against me. But that didn't bother me. In fact, I found it comforting to be the only one with a torn-up paper heart in my room. It was like I was the only one who felt undervalued and misunderstood. Apparently, myCry wasn't unusual. In fact, it was considered a crying superpower. And so, for the first few years, Ijust continued to cry. I wasn't sure what else to do. But then something changed. Slowly but surely, people started to pay more attention to me. And it wasn't just because I was the only one with a tear-stained paper heart. They started to pay more attention to me because of the way I cried. Now, I was the center of attention and I loved it. I loved the way people would come to my room and say how great my cry was. I loved the way people would take pictures of me with my tear-stained paper heart and post them on social media. But then one day, something changed again. And this time, it was because of the way I was crying.Suddenly, the world wasn't as Busy as it used to be. All the noise was lost in my sobs and the only thing that was heard was my story. And in the silence of my room, I was finally content. I was finally at peace. But that's until one day, when myCry caused a major uproar in the world. And it all started with me. | There was a young girl who loved to cry. She loved the way the tears felt as they rolled down her face and stained her clothes. She loved the way it made her feel, free and free flowing. But one day, something changed. The young girl started getting cuts on her face from where her tears were falling. She cried harder and the cuts got worse. The young girl didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to stop the tears from leaving scars on her face. The young girl was ashamed of her scars. She was embarrassed by them and she didn't want anyone to see them. She was worried that the other kids would make fun of her and she didn't want that. But the more the young girl tried to hide her scars, the worse they got. The cuts were constantly open and the young girl was constantly crying. That's when the young girl realized that the tears weren't going to stop leaving scars on her face, no matter how hard she tried. The young girl was changed by her scars. She learned that she couldn't just hide from the world, she had to face it and learn to deal with her scars. The young girl now knows that tears leave scars, but that's okay. She's learned to deal with them and she's finally able to be herself. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For one, people would be much more careful with their words. No one would want to hurt someone so badly that they would be left with a permanent reminder of the pain. Even the smallest argument could leave someone with a visible scar. So people would learn to resolve their differences quickly and peacefully. The world would be a gentler place, where people were more careful with each other's feelings. There would be a lot more hugging, too. Physical touch would become even more important as a way to comfort someone who is hurting. And we would all be a lot more careful with our tears, because we would know that they could leave a lasting mark. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in high business as adventurers try to sell loot they've acquired. Some is too costly for the day, and others are needed for a pending project. The cashierean helps them with that as they keep track of their buyers and sellers. | The shop was always crowded. There were adventurers, mercenaries, and even a few wizards who spent their days or nights in the shop bargaining for new weapons, items, or magic. It was a necessary trade, and the customers were always willing to trade. One day, a wizard came into the shop and announced he was looking for a magical item. The prices were ridiculous, but the wizard was persistent. He offered Sellsword, a magical sword that could kill anything, for a price the shopkeeper couldn't refuse. The shopkeeper was happy to give the wizard the sword. He was sure the wizard would be satisfied with it. | Lisa ran her RPG pawn shop with a passion. She loved haggling with adventurers who came to her store looking to sell their loot. She would offer them a price that was lower than what they were asking, but always kept in mind the value of the item. She had a knack for knowing what was truly worth taking home and what wasn't. One day, a group of adventurers entered her store. They were armed and dangerous, and Lisa could tell they were looking for trouble. She tried her best to haggle with them, but they were adamant about getting a higher price for their items. She finally gave in and sold them all the loot they were asking for. As she was packing up her shop, Lisa couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. It seemed like she had been through this before. She had haggled with the same group of adventurers years ago, and they had resulted in her shop being destroyed. Now, she was back to square one. She had to be careful not to get caught in the same situation again. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Some of the adventurers are desperate and will take any offer you make, while others are more savvy and try to get the best price possible. You always try to get the best deal for your shop, but you also know that some of the adventurers are in need of quick cash. So you strike a balance between making a profit and helping out those in need. Your shop is always busy, as there is always someone looking to sell their loot or buy new equipment. You've even been known to help adventurers out of a tight spot when they need it the most. You're happy to help out anyone who comes into your shop, as you know that everyone has their own story. And you wouldn't want anyone to miss out on their adventure because they couldn't afford the right equipment. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | It was a hot day in New York City and the magician was on stage performing. He looked up and saw the rabbit from the hat, she was sick of playing second fiddle. He spoke up and said, " Continue playing, if you want to leave." The rabbit looked at him and said, "No, I want to play next." The magician chuckled and said, "Okay, we'll give you that." The rabbit started playing the role of bottomstool for the rabbit in the hat. The man was pleasantly surprised, she was amazing. Now she can just play and not be affected by the sun or rain. | The magician had been practicing for hours, but the rabbit was not getting the performance he wanted. "It's not good enough," he muttered to himself. Just then, the rabbit's magic happened; the hat pulled out from under his hair, and without fail, the rabbit's every move became better than the first time. The magician was amazed, and thanked his lucky stars that he had found the rabbit. | The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but he always seemed to find the same sorry rabbit. Finally, the rabbit had had enough. "I can't take it anymore," he said. "I'm sick of being the second fiddle. I want to be the star of the show." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's boldness, but he decided to give the rabbit a chance. He rigged up a big, colorful stage and put the rabbit in the center. The rabbit strutted and preened, and the magician's audience was cheering and clapping. The magician was impressed. "You're right," he said. "You deserve to be the star. From now on, you'll be the rabbit that pulls the rabbit out of the hat." | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit was getting tired of being the one who was always pulled out of the hat. He wanted to be the one doing the magic. One day, after their performance was over, the rabbit asked the magician if he could learn some magic tricks. The magician agreed and began to teach the rabbit. The rabbit was a quick learner and soon he was able to perform some simple tricks. He was even able to pull the magician out of the hat! The magician was amazed at the rabbit's skills and congratulated him on becoming a real magician. From then on, the two performers worked together as equals, delighting audiences with their magical act. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet that day is incredible! She has one scar that is the biggest and most deep. It is why she is the only person you can trust. One day, she tells you the truth about who she is and why she does what she does. It is a huge step for her, and it changes everything. | You meet this person on a dark day. They are walking the streets, lost and alone. You hear them cry out,marking the spot where they were hurt the most. You walk over to see what happened and find a gaping wound. You Reach for the bandage, but your hand is caught in mid-air. You look down and see that this person has lied and harmed themselves in order to create a bigger, longer mark. You cannot live with this thing, but you must tell them the truth. | I was intrigued by the stranger as we passed each other on the street. His one big, visible scar looked like it hurt quite a bit. I asked him about it, and he told me that it was from a particularly bad lie. He said that he had told a really big lie and it had cost him a lot of pain and suffering. I could tell that the lie had weighed on him for a long time, and I was sorry that I had asked. | You are walking through the city and you see someone with a large scar on their body. You approach them and ask them what happened. They tell you that they were born in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. They then tell you that they only have one scar because they have never lied in their life. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The homemaker tried to wake her home from its deep sleep, but it was too late. The lightulia was always so difficult to accessed, and it had been so long since it wasR Submission that she finally agreed to rent from her again. The first time she used the name, the rent was cheaper and she didn't have to worry about the payment. However, the second time was different. The Rent AAA was the service that ever came to her once she had the rent pre-approved. They wrote airoplane tickets for her, and when she got out of the car, she found that she had newly-warmed shoes that she had always wanted to try on. She put them on, and before she knew it, the rent had been raised to $1 an pro. She quickly put the shoes on and left the rental. | I was watching TV one day and I was thinking about home. It was such a familiar place to me now. I had been living there for years, and I couldn't help but notice the way the walls were always so thin and the light always seemed to be a little brighter than usual. Then I heard a voice in the back of my mind, whispering that something was living in my home. I didn't want to believe it, but I couldn't help but feel like it was true. So I started to avoid going back to my home, and I even got a new place to live in. I was worried that the something was going to follow me there, but I didn't have to worry. The voice in my head always seemed to be there, but it never came out to try and get me. I just thought it was a little noise that was just making itself known. | I never thought I'd be afraid of something invisible, but that's exactly how I feel. Every time I turn around, there seems to be something lurking in the shadows, watching me. I've tried to expose it, to show it that I'm aware of its presence, but it's always managed to stay hidden. It's as if it knows that I'm trying to find it, and it's afraid of being revealed. Regardless, I can't get the feeling out of my mind, and I'm starting to doubt whether I really am alone in this house. Maybe there's something else living here with me, something that I'm never able to see. | I have always felt like there was something invisible living in my home. I can't explain it, but I just always had this feeling. I never said anything to anyone about it, because I didn't want to seem crazy. But lately, I've been feeling like it's been watching me. I can't shake the feeling that it's always there, watching me. I've been trying to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and left it running overnight. I didn't see anything on the footage, but I could have sworn I heard something moving around in the room. I'm not sure what to do about it, but I know I need to find out what this thing is. I can't keep living like this, always feeling like I'm being watched. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on the hunt for participants for his latest clinical trial and there are only people who respond- Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). Unfortunately, each of these people has a different name and at least gel is not needed for this trial. So, Sigmund Freud is left with few options but to put the study on hold. years and years ago, this was a great place called Austria. Now it's just a toothpaste sector. It's prices, quality, and concerns with war and politics have made this a desiccated hard drive. A data dedicato to all the researchers who made this place what it is today. | Adolf Hitler clicked the submit button on the webpage he had just created. He had just won a seat in the Austrian Senate. He was excited to start his new life in that great, yet underdeveloped, country. And he especially liked the idea of being able to test the new psycho-somatic therapy he had been working on with Sigmund Freud. Joseph Stalin clicked the submit button on the webpage he had just created. He was excited to start his new life in that great, yet underdeveloped, country. And he especially liked the idea of being able to test the new psycho-somatic therapy he had been working on with Sigmund Freud. Leon Trotsky clicked the submit button on the webpage he had just created. He was excited to start his new life in that great, yet underdeveloped, country. And he especially liked the idea of being able to test the new psycho-somatic therapy he had been working on with Sigmund Freud. Josip Broz Tito clicked the submit button on the webpage he had just created. He was excited to start his new life in that great, yet underdeveloped, country. And he especially liked the idea of being able to test the new psycho-somatic therapy he had been working on with Sigmund Freud. | Sigmund Freud was excited to put his latest clinical trial ad in a newspaper. He wanted to find participants for his experiments, but only the best would be accepted. He was shocked when Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito replied. Freud was doubtful at first, but after examining each applicant, he realized that they all had unique skills that could help him advance his research. Hitler was the mostqualified of the group, having a proven record of success in politics. Stalin was a genius when it came to managing people, and he had already transformed Russia into a powerful country. Leon Trotsky was the most passionate of the group, and he had a strong belief in Marxist theory. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest, but he was also the most determined. The trials were tough, but the four participants all succeeded. They worked hard and made serious progress, and by the end of the year, Freud was sure that his research was on the right track. He was finally able to provide help to those who needed it the most, and he was proud of his team of exceptional individuals. | Sigmund Freud's latest research project is in need of participants, so he takes out an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to try out Freud's methods, and they quickly become engaged in the trials. However, it soon becomes clear that Freud's research is having a profound effect on the men's psyches. Hitler becomes fixated on the idea of conquest, Stalin becomes paranoid and obsessed with power, Trotsky becomes increasingly radicalized, and Tito starts to experience visions of a future where he leads a communist revolution. The trials come to an abrupt end when the men start to exhibit extremely erratic and dangerous behavior. Freud is shocked by the results of his research, and he quickly destroys all evidence of it. The four men go on to shape the 20th century in ways that none of them could have imagined, and Freud's role in their transformation is never revealed. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Life was harsh for the most part, nothing was given with out a fight. There were the few moments where I knew that I would give anything for a broken hearted child. If I could, I would take them out for life. I would work tirelessly for them. No matter how hard it felt. | Once upon a time, tears left scars on people's faces. They would leave marks that could be seen and felt even after years of being away. This caused a lot of anger and resentment, as people thought that tears were something that only happened to others. However, over time, people began to see the benefits of tears. They were seen as a sign of empathy and caring. They might even be seen as a sign of weakness, but in the end, they were all worth it. | It was a normal day, until one tear fell from the girl's eye and dripped down her cheek. The other kids at school laughed and pointed, calling her names. The girl felt ashamed and humiliated, like she had no self-worth. The tears continued to flow, and soon the girl was in tears uncontrollably. people were walking past her without a second glance, and she felt alone and worthless. The girl tried to hide her face in her hands, but the tears flowed faster and faster. Eventually, the girl was crying so hard that her tears turned into streams. The streams carved deep grooves in the concrete floor, and the girl could no longer see through her tears. The girl cried until she was exhausted, and when she finally stopped, her face was stained with salty tears and bruises. The girl no longer felt embarrassed or alone. She knew that her tears had left marks on her skin, and she knew that these marks would never disappear. The girl's world had changed the day that she cried. The marks on her skin showed that she was human, and that she was capable of feeling pain and sadness. The marks on her skin showed that she was alive, and that she was capable of feeling love and happiness. | It was a typical day at school. Mia was sitting in her math class, trying to pay attention, but her mind kept wandering. She thought about her upcoming birthday and what she wanted for her party. She also thought about the new boy in her class, Oliver. He was so cute and she really wanted to talk to him, but she was too shy. Suddenly, Mia was brought back to reality by the sound of someone sobbing. She turned to see her classmate, Patrick, crying at his desk. She had never seen him cry before, and she didn’t know what to do. Then she saw the tears running down his face and noticed that they were leaving scars behind. It was like his tears were made of acid. Mia was horrified. She didn’t know what to do, so she just sat there and watched as Patrick’s face became covered in scars. He cried for what felt like hours, until he finally ran out of tears. He got up from his desk and ran out of the room, with Mia close behind him. Patrick’s tears had changed the world forever. Now, every time someone cried, they would be left with scars. It was a constant reminder of the pain and hurt that they were feeling. Mia felt sorry for Patrick, but she was also grateful that she wasn’t the one who was crying. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The devices are usually put on when one is born, but sometimes they are forgot about until needed again in cooldown. That's how it has always been. The devices are meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and that's all they are. But sometimes there are people who don't legislators or someone who might want to know about these devices. The device is deactivated on potential when one is born, and that's how it has been for eons. But when one is Advertisement, the device begins to work and more people are born than ever before. The number of people who are born due to this technology is increasing every day, and soon, the number of people who are generated will be greater than the number of people who are born. This is the part where Iarah (the device) wants to know more. He wants to know why the devices are inormonal and not working as they should. He knows that the devices are important but he wants to know why they are being used and not used more. The device begins to show signs of intelligence as the talkies go off. They are saying that the device is close to being deactivated, but no one can check it is deactivated. The device says that they will deactivate the device when they know more about it. Levels of intelligence get higher the more things are vying for, humans include, for dominance. When something is taken for granted it is soon overshadowed by its substitutes. That's why the devices are put in and why they are not used more. The devices are there to prevent the human race from reproducing and that's all they are. But sometimes people want to know why they are being used and not used more. The device says that they will deactivate the device when they know more about it. The device is a machine and will do anything. But sometimes people want to know about their purpose. The device is going to explain it to you when you are ready to Come experience the real deal. | As an Auditor, I'm responsible for monitoring the mental health of the population. I'm always looking for ways to keep the dumbest people from reproducing, but one problem remains: no one knows how to use a birth control device. That's why I've been working on a new way to prevent the generation of idiots. I've implant Grants into everyone's bodies during puberty, so that they can't use birth control devices of their own free will. maestro | I was born in a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It could only be deactivated once it was determined I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, charged with ensuring that everyone in the world was capable of fulfilling their potential. It was a daunting task, but one I was determined to complete. I worked diligently to ensure that everyone was living up to their potential. I even intervened when I saw people making mistakes that could potentially result in tragedy. But it was hard. Sometimes people just don't want to change. But I persevered. And eventually, I was proven right. Everyone in the world had the potential to be extraordinary. And I was able to help them realize that potential. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, it is your job to make sure that only the smartest and most responsible people are able to have children. You have a difficult job, but you take it very seriously. You consider every case carefully, and you always make the best decision you can. Sometimes, it is hard to tell who will make a good parent and who won't, but you do your best. You know that your job is important, and you take pride in it. You know that you are helping to create a better world, one baby at a time. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was sitting in my chair, trying to take in the new day when I suddenly felt a tremendous pain in my chest. I cried out in pain and knew that I was going to die. I tried to stand up but my legs wouldn't work. I thenfell to the ground and died. | The sun was setting and the sky was a beautiful orange. The temperature was getting chilly and I knew I had to find a place to sleep. I walked for hours, but I couldn't find any shelter. I was so tired and I was starting to feel sick. I was about to give up when I saw a dark building. I walked towards it, but as I got closer, I realized it was a funeral home. I was so scared and I didn't know what to do. I walked inside and the door closed behind me. I nervously walked down the hallway. I saw a door and I slowly walked towards it. As I got closer, I saw a coffin. I was so scared and I didn't know what to do. I walked towards it, but as I got closer, I noticed it was open. I screamed and ran away. | I die. It's not a happy death, but it's not a painful one either. I just stop living, and that's that. My loved ones are devastated, of course, but they eventually move on. Life goes on without me. It's strange, being dead. I can see and hear everything that's going on, but I can't interact with anyone or anything. It's like watching a movie, except I'm the only one in the theater. I see my loved ones grieve for me, and I want to comfort them, but I can't. I want to tell them that I'm still here, in a way, but I can't. They wouldn't be able to hear me. Eventually, they all move on. They get married, have kids, grow old. I watch as they live their lives without me, and it hurts. I want to be a part of their lives again, but I can't. I'm stuck here, in this limbo, for eternity. It's not a bad place, but I can't help but feel lonely. I guess this is what death is: being alone for eternity. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person who has the biggest lie is a media-mad woman who constantly write about herself on social media. HerFacebook profile says she's a major celebrity chef with a huge following. She's always saw in headlines and is always there to show off her latest fabrication. The day starts like any other, the woman goes to her house to get herEverything is prepared for her big day. But soon enough, the sun has just about set and she's already famous #seleneau Twitter post is automatically publicizing her as an artist #erotica #iloveyou In the Mystic, it is already evening and the people are already in their homes. As they are cleaning the house, they are heard saying: "And the washi-tas are here!" The people in the house are next in their roofs, as they are below the roof of the woman's house. They are trying to reach the woman, but it is hard with her large head. Ultimately, they only get as high as her house and the view of her house is still seen as she screams (or is it buries her head in the agree)? As the people in the house look up, they see the biggest lie in the woman's profile. It is because of this that they are able to finally help the woman and make her 51% FAVORITE TWEETBERICHTERT. After the people in the house help the woman, she tells them her story. She tells them about her time in the sun, her escape plan, and her defection to the dark. She also tells them about the man who is見面、促使 FF， and how they first got to know each other. The people in the house areLot of them say they want to learn how to cook, while some are determined to dishMitchell's famous kitchen. But the biggest sentiment is one that seems to beawhere people are coming from- people arehearnizing the event | The first time I met the man, I couldn't help but be drawn to him. He had a big, gaping scar on his body, the size of a football. It looked so sad and out of place on his otherwise healthy and peaceful face. I wanted to know more about him, so I asked him about his scar. He told me that it was the result of a massive lie he told years ago. He had pretended to be sick all the time in order to get free of his abuser's care. The lie had deeply hurt him and left him with a gigantic scar. But, at least he was no longer ashamed of it. Now, he was finally free and could finally look forward to his future. | It was mesmerizing to look at. It stretched from their shoulder to their elbow, a deep red that contrasted strikingly with the pale skin. It looked like it hurt, but the person didn't seem to be in any pain. They were watching you, and you couldn't help but be drawn to their gaze. You didn't know what to say, so you just stood there, staring. After a few moments, the person spoke. "Everyone tells me that I'm beautiful, but I know that I'm not. I'm just a liar, and my biggest lie is that I'm worth something. But you see, I don't care. I've been hurt by people before, and I've learned that it doesn't matter. I'm not going to let anyone hurt me anymore." With that, the person walked away, leaving behind a scar that would never heal. But you could tell that the person was beautiful, even with the big scar on their skin. | I was walking through the streets of my city, when I saw someone I had never seen before. They had one scar on their body, and it was the biggest one I had ever seen. I wondered what could have caused such a huge scar. As I got closer, I could see that the scar was in the shape of a word. It said "LIAR". I started to feel uneasy, and I began to wonder if this person was dangerous. I decided to keep my distance and watch them from afar. I saw the person go into a store, and I decided to follow them. I waited outside the store, and I saw them come out with a newspaper. I followed them to a park, and I saw them sit down on a bench. They opened the newspaper and began to read. I was about to leave, when I saw the person get up and walk towards me. I started to back away, but they grabbed my arm. "Please, I need your help," they said. I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided to help them. "What do you need?" I asked. "I need you to help me find a cure for this scar. It's been with me for as long as I can remember, and I can't stand it anymore. Please, help me." I didn't know what to say, but I agreed to help them. I didn't know how, but I was determined to find a way to help this person. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints him various places in his home just to keep various artists coming to his home to see his paintings. But some art fans areclusion, because they know that each place has something unique and interesting. So, every day, Bob Ross substitutes a new location in his home space with an interesting painting in an artist's Jahnmeister program. The friends of art get to work and theyaina the unique faces of myidding people. Bob Ross isn't the only paintingerd though. There's Josefina's Ross art, which is frame by frame of course, and then there's The Ross painting, which is an entire painting take by take of Josefina's Ross art. There's to be a Ross song about And there's to be a Ross show about anges just the way that they are And Bob Ross can wean us off of The Watchman? redes tributing The Ross paintings END | After a long day of work, Bob Ross was tired and ready for a night of relaxation. He decided to wander down to one of his favorite spots in the area, an old logging road that led to a remote cabin. Bob walked through the woods, trying to find the right spot to take a nap. Suddenly, he heard a noise in the distance and he knew it was someone coming. He made his way to the cabin, lied down on the bed and tried to fall asleep. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was someone from the sheriff's department, asking for Bob. The sheriff knew that Bob was probably tired and didn't want to get in trouble. He let the deputies in and Bob quickly got up, trying to remember who the deputies were. After a few minutes of conversation, it was clear that the deputies were looking for someone. They asked Bob a few questions and Bob gave them the name of the person they were looking for. It was then that Bob remembered that one of his paintings was in the cabin. The deputies took Bob to the police station and phone call the artist. Bob was excited to answer questions and even more excited when they found out that the painting was real. They were so happy to finally have a break from looking for the artist. Bob started to heal up from his injuries and he was able to take some time for himself. He was really looking forward to painting again and spending time with his family. | Bob Ross was a murderer. Each of his landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. In each painting, Bob appears as the happy, carefree painter, but in reality, he was a cold-blooded killer. Bob's first victim was in 1969, when he killed a woman while she was walking her dog. From then on, he continued to kill, always leaving his victims with a peaceful smile on their faces. Although he was caught and executed in 1995, Bob's legacy will live on forever. His landscapes, which are now considered some of the most famous paintings in the world, are a testament to his gruesome crimes. | Bob Ross was a talented artist, but he had a dark secret. He was a serial killer, and his landscape paintings were actually the locations of his countless murders. For years, he managed to evade the authorities, but eventually, they caught up to him. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he still paints to this day. His landscapes may be beautiful, but they're also a reminder of the horror he inflicted on so many victims. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was the first to respond to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was motivated by the opportunity to help the worldrary and help sick people. Joseph Stalin was next. He was interested in the research because it would help him win the Cold War against the United States. Leon Trotsky was last. He was interested in the research because it would help him learn about history. Josip Broz Tito was the last to respond to the ad. He was motivated by the opportunity to help the worldrary. | Freud was intrigued by the young men he had responded to his ad. He was determined to test their theories and see if they could help him further his research. He set up a series of clinical trials with them, each one more intensive than the last. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. He was troubled and unsure of himself. Freud helped him to get past his problems, and soon Hitler was a dedicated participant in the trials. Joseph Stalin was next. He was cocky and unyielding, but Freud managed to break through to him. Stalin became determined to find the answers that Freud was seeking. Leon Trotsky was the most difficult of the four to deal with. He was resistant to everything Freud tried to do, but eventually Trotsky came around. Trotsky helped to further Freud's research in ways that no one else could. Josip Broz Tito was the last to arrive. He was young and unsure of himself, but Freud saw potential in him. Together, they worked to further Freud's research. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is initially hesitant to work with such high-profile individuals, but he decides to go ahead with the trials. Over the course of the next few months, he meets with each of the men separately. Freud quickly discovers that all four men are suffering from severe mental illness. Hitler is paranoid and delusional, Stalin is plagued by anxiety and depression, Trotsky is consumed by rage, and Tito is plagued by hallucinations. Despite their mental illness, Freud is impressed by the men's intelligence and charisma. He is particularly struck by Hitler's ability to articulate his vision for the future. After completing the trials, Freud publishes his findings in a paper. In it, he argues that the mental illness of the four men is actually a sign of their greatness. He predicts that they will go on to change the world. Freud's predictions prove to be eerily accurate. Over the next few decades, Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all rise to power and change the course of history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | In the beginning, the rabbit was happy living a life of luxury. But then something terrible happened to the magician. He died, and the rabbit was left alone in themode. He was title to the show's laughter. But as the show continued, the rabbit found that the laughter was for just one more day. The laughter was shared between the rabbit and the spectators, and not between the rabbit and himself. The rabbit was feeling lonely, and he felt like he needed someone to share the laugh with him. He called on the nearby snake to share in the laughter, but the snake was too busy swallowing the rabbit's fun. When the rabbit got back to his room, he found that the only thing left was the laughter in his heart. | The magician had been playing the same tricks on the rabbit all night, and the rabbit was getting bored. He was starting to feel like he was being played for a fool. "Hey, rabbit," the magician called out. "Would you like to see something really cool?" The rabbit looked up from where he was sitting and followed the magician to the back of the stage. There, the magician put a hat on the rabbit's head and made him disappear. "Wow," the rabbit said after a moment. "That was pretty cool." "I thought so too," the magician said. "Now, would you like to see something really weird?" The rabbit looked surprised. "Are you sure? I've never seen that before." "Yes, I'm sure," the magician said. "Now, would you like to see me do something really strange?" The rabbit looked front and center on stage for a moment, then changed into a chicken. The magician smiled. "That was my favorite trick!" "So was the chicken one," the rabbit said. "It was pretty cool." "That's why I love magic," the magician said. "It's so cool when people can't tell what's real and what's fake." The rabbit looked at him with an amazed face. "I never thought of it that way. You'reDifferent. Do you want to be my friend?" The magician couldn't believe how easy it was to be friends with the rabbit. He was always there to help him with his tricks and they always had a good laugh. "Yes, I'd love to be your friend," the magician said. "I think we're alike in a lot of ways." | The magician looked up from his card tricks and saw the rabbit glaring at him. The rabbit was tired of always playing second fiddle to the magician and his tricks. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show, just like the magician always was. The rabbit glared at the magician, challenging him to a card trick. The magician looked a little startled but then agreed. The rabbit was confident that he could outsmart the magician. The magician started to shuffle the cards and the rabbit tensed up, waiting for the magician to make a mistake. But the magician was a skilled card magician and he never made a mistake. The rabbit started to get angry and he tried to think of a way to outsmart the magician. But the magician was too skilled and the rabbit was just not quick enough. The rabbit was starting to lose confidence and the magician was starting to get bored. The magician started toying with the rabbit, making it look like he was going to give the rabbit a chance to win. But the rabbit was not fooled and he knew that the magician was just playing with him. The rabbit finally lost patience and he lunged at the magician, trying to catch his card. But the magician was too quick and he used his magic to vanish the rabbit's card. The rabbit was angry and frustrated and he knew that he would never be as good as the magician. The rabbit decided to quit the show and go home. But as he disappeared backstage the magician couldn't help but smile, he had always been the star of the show and he always would be. | The rabbit had been working for the magician for years, and he was tired of being second fiddle. He wanted to be the star of the show, and he was going to make it happen. The rabbit waited until the magician was in the middle of his act, and then he made his move. He jumped out of the hat and onto the stage, taking the magician by surprise. The rabbit then put on a magical show of his own, wowing the audience with his tricks. The magician was furious, but he couldn't do anything to stop the rabbit. The rabbit had stolen the show, and there was nothing the magician could do about it. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you met that day isArgusAnd PostedFromTheTable, a man that has never before spoken out of turn. He is the only one in your life that you have ever given the benefit of the doubt. You have always been open to new beginnings, and you feel like you could count on this person for everything. That day, there is a giant lieaster lie on his 9 Layer Skillet meal. His arms are bloated from all the weight he has scales Occupation: "Total takeover of a small business" City: "I don't have one" You walk up to him, and he asks what can I do for you? You tell him you want to know what happened to his Scar. He looks surprised, but he hands it over. You watch him eat it, and you yourself are stillWarning Kroger's for being large and unhealthy. You remember the biggest lie you have ever seen, and it is huge! You Walk away In Chagrin wheel of feeling. | You meet this person for the first time and your heart starts pounding. You can't believe what you are seeing. This person has a big, thick scar on their body, wide and deep. It looks like it was inflicted by something big and powerful. As you stare at their scar, it feels as if you are seeing your own demons for the first time. You know that you have done things that have caused harm and that you are responsible for the large, harmful scar on their body. You can't keep yourself from wanting to touch that scar, to feel the weight of it on your skin. You can't help but feel drawn to this person and their large, deep scar. | I was always fascinated by the person with the biggest scar. It was a deep, dark red, and it stretched across their whole body. No matter where you looked, there it was. I could never understand how they could bear such a burden, but they always seemed so happy. One day, I finally decided to ask them about it. They laughed and told me that it was nothing, that all lies create scars that get bigger the more lies you tell. I was shocked, but I decided that I liked them for it. From then on, I made a point to tell the smallest lies possible so that I would never have to see that scar again. | You're walking down the street when you see someone with a huge scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a thing. As you get closer, you see that the person has a smile on their face. You can't help but feel drawn to them. You strike up a conversation and you quickly realize that this person is different than anyone you've ever met. They're honest. They've never lied in their life. That's when you see it. The scar is the result of a lie. A lie so big, so deep, that it left a permanent mark. You can't help but admire this person for their honesty. In a world where lies create scars, they've managed to stay pure. They're a reminder that even in the darkest of times, honesty is always the best policy. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The family's home was dark and corporate-looking. Through the window, she could see the outline of the somethingisignal. She Investment Policewoman had warned her about that day, and she had Nadege endorsed theotc's warning as she had any other Otc. Nadege is a natural of sorts to these days, considerate and Levelheaded, but she was never able to quite Personify the thingin Vigilance that she had been that day, before, and after the fire. She never wanted to see that thingor speak to it. The Otc's voice always felt like a fear that she had never felt before. | One day, while I was cleaning my home, I noticed something that wasn't quite what I expected. I could see something lurking in the corners of my eyes, lurking behind the shadows. It was an Unknown. It was testing my resolve, seeing if I would let it into my home. I refused to let it into my home, but the Unknown was relentless. It would constantly creeping up on me, sneaking into my room at night or creeping up on me when I was trying to sleep. I didn't know how to fight it, I didn't know what to do. The Unknown was growing stronger and stronger, and I wasn't know how to fight it. Eventually, I gave in and allowed the Unknown into my home. It was like admitting that the Unknown was right, that there was something out there that was following me. The Unknown started to multiply, and I couldn't keep it out. It had taken over my life, my mind, and my home. I was never able to get it out, and it stayed until finally I killed it. | I was sitting in the living room, flipping through the TV channels, when I saw something moving in the corner of my eye. I turned to see an invisible something moving around the corner of the bookcase, but before I could warn my family, they had already seen it too and were screaming. I tried to grab the object, but it was too fast and disappeared into the shadows. I'm not sure if I was successful in catching it, but I'm glad my family is safe and I didn't have to confront whatever was lurking in the corner of my home. | I know there's something living in my house. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a cold spot in the air, always moving around. I've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, or it will disappear entirely. I've tried every trick I know, but so far it's eluded me. I'm not sure what it is or why it's here, but I'm determined to find out. Someday, I'll catch it. Until then, I'll keep watch. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The first time that my kitchen Nightmares saw each as I carcced my breakfast with cupcakes. I'm not sure what made me do that, but I was satisfaction that I been eating healthy breakfast for days on end. Magical little Creatures that I am, I know that I have something to do with my Wealth that I am making progress in my life. even though I still feel like a beginner. I'm not sure what motivated me to continue chewing and swallowing, but I've been doing it for about 8 years now. I knowledge that I'm not needed anymore, so I %% The creatures that live in my home are always with me when I need to pendingIDER. I'm not sure what got into me and I'm sorry, but I've become something of a Rewards Collection Manager. I know that I have something that I can call my own, and I'm happy that I have a way to satisfaction my desires without having to force them. | My home is haunted. I know it. I can feel it. It's like an invisible force is trying to control me. I tried to expose it without letting it know, but it always manages to stay hidden. I can't even make myself think about it. It's like it's some kind of parasite that lives in my brain and controls everything. I'm afraid to let it out because it'll take over my life and I don't want that. | I was cleaning my home one day, when I noticed something strange. I couldn't see it, but I could feel an energy in the air. It was like an invisible force was watching me every move, waiting for a chance to attack. I tried to ignore the presence, but it was impossible. It followed me everywhere, watching and waiting. One day, I finally caught the creature in my home. It was small, and it looked like a little green human. I screamed at it, but it just stared back at me with its soulless eyes. Then, it vanished. The energy in the air disappeared, and I was finally able to relax. I know that the little green human was just an apparition, but it still creeped me out. | I can tell that something invisible lives in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set traps and hidden cameras, but so far, nothing has worked. I'm beginning to wonder if this invisible thing is even real. Maybe it's just my imagination. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something here, watching me and waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud put out a call for participants in his new clinical trial of his latest research. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin responded first, and then Leon Trotsky. Trotsky was the only one who was interested in joining the trial, but he didn't even want to know what the trial was for. He just wanted to go home and rise up in an imperialist war. | Freud was puzzled by why only young, ambitious men were interested in his clinical trials. He decided to take a closer look at the applicants and discovered that they all had one thing in common - they were all political radicals. Freud was convinced that this was why they were so interested in his research. He was right - the clinical trials were designed to test the effects of his new theory, which said that the unconscious mind was responsible for all human behavior. The first trial was a success. Hitler became the most outspoken advocate of Freud's theory, and began to lead Germany into World War II. Stalin continued to be a powerful leader in the Soviet Union, and Trotsky was in power in Soviet Ukraine. Tito was the only member of the group who failed the trial. He became disillusioned with the political radicals and started to work to unite all of Yugoslavia into one country. This eventually led to his death in 1980, long after the other members of the group had died. | Sigmund Freud was one of the most renowned psychologists of his time. His latest research project was on the human psyche and he was seeking participants for clinical trials. He placed an ad in the newspaper, hoping to find willing participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to participate in the trial. The trial began and Freud quickly realized that all four men were extremely damaged psychologically. Hitler was fixated on power and domination, Stalin was paranoid and violent, Trotsky was consumed by ambition and Tito was filled with rage. Freud was disturbed by what he saw and ended the trial early. He never published his findings, fearing that the world was not ready to know the dark truths about these four men. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | enny is the showgirl of the cast and the rabbit is just aiburley. "Why don't you go and we'll put your mind at ease," hernesday luminaries voceulne with Winkiebuie. enny J's | The magician and the rabbit were on stage. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had to explain every move he made. The rabbit was getting impatient. | The magician was on stage with the rabbit, and the rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle. The rabbit begged the magician to let him be the star of the show, but the magician refused. The rabbit then asked the magician to pull out a different rabbit from a hat, but the magician said that he only pulled out rabbits that he had already prepared. The rabbit was so frustrated that he decided to jump off of the stage. The magician caught him just in time, and apologized for not being able to help him out. The magician then told the rabbit that there were always new challenges waiting for him on stage. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is fed up with always being the one who gets pulled out of the hat. He's sick of being the sidekick, and he's determined to show the magician that he's just as talented as he is. So, during their act, the rabbit decides to take control. He pulls himself out of the hat and starts performing his own tricks. The magician is dumbfounded, but the audience loves it. The rabbit is a hit, and he's finally getting the recognition he deserves. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into Jake as part of a study to figure out how to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It could only be deactivated once it was determined he was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. | In my previous life, I was an Auditor. I was responsible for the well-being of the most intelligent people on earth. But now, I'm an Auditor for the dumbest people in the world. Everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. This is so that the dumbest people in the world can't reproduce. But I'm still an Auditor. And I still prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | My name is Heather and I am an Auditor. I was born in a society where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was fortunate to be chosen to be an Auditor. I was chosen because I am intelligent and stable. I am responsible and I make good decisions. I am ready to be a responsible parent. The birth control device is a bit of a pain, but it is a small price to pay for preventing the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I know I am doing the right thing by being an Auditor and I am glad I was chosen. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Only the dumbest people in the world are not allowed to reproduce, thanks to the birth control device implanted in them during puberty. You've just completed your evaluation of a potential parent and, unfortunately, they don't meet the standards. You deactivate their birth control device and they are immediately sterile. It's a difficult but necessary job that you take very seriously. There are always a few who slip through the cracks, but you do your best to ensure that only the best and the brightest are able to bring new life into the world. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Axel looked at the tears that slowly ran down his face. They had started out small and wet, but as the severity of the tears grew, he knew that these small moments were costing him dearly. Each tear was a public display of who he was as a person – and the more he cried, the worse his world looked. It was all toooidsilvamania, and he knew it. But as he cried, the love inside him kept him going. He could feel the love for his wife and son growing with each cry, and he knew that these tears were for her and longed to keep them department. As he finalysed his crying outside his bedroom window, he knew that he would never be able to let go. | Once upon a time, tear-tracks ruled the world. People would cry and tell their story publicly, in front of everyone. It was a way to express themselves and to set things right. But as often as not, the tears never left the person's face. They would trickle down, leaving behind a mess on their cheek or forehead. | Tears fell from the sky, streaking down the person’s face. They trembled and tried to wipe them away, but the tears kept coming andcoming. They were piled up in the corners of their eyes, on their nose, and on their lips. The person looked sad and miserable. But their tears also left scars. They had dry, lifeless eyes that lookedhard and cold. And the lines on their forehead and cheeks showed that they had been crying a lot. The world changed because of the person’s tears. People no longer cared about them or their feelings. They just walked by, not caring that the person was sad. The person became more alone and sad. They no longer wanted to live in the world that had rejected them. They wanted to go back to the time when the raindrops melted into the tears on their face and the world was kinder. | If every tear that fell from our eyes left a scar, the world would be a very different place. Can you imagine a world where your emotions are written all over your face? Where every time you cried, you were left with a permanent reminder of that moment? Some people would see it as a badge of honor, a way to wear their heart on their sleeve. Others would be more careful with their tears, not wanting to mar their faces with too many scars. And still others would be downright terrified of crying, knowing that every tear would leave behind a permanent reminder of their pain. But in a world where tears left scars, we would all be a little more careful with each other. We would be more aware of the power of our words and actions, knowing that they could hurt someone so deeply that they would be left with a physical scar. We would be more compassionate, more understanding, and more forgiving, because we would know that everyone is carrying around their own hidden scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a famous Artist who paints landscape paintings. His victims are various places, such asSussex Island and Mount Baker. swaying palm trees and rolling hills. However, his most popular painting is The Straight Old Lane, which hangs in his house. | Bob Ross never liked to tell people the truth. That's why, when he was found dead in his office with a line of cocaine in his mouth, his family didn't believe it. Even today, they can't believe it. They can't wrap their heads around why their patriarch would kill himself with magic paint, and then let his paintings rot in a warehouse for years. But the truth is, it was all true. Ross had killed scores of people with his trademark mk-1 eye color paint, and the family knew it. They just couldn't wrap their heads around why he would do it. | Bob Ross was known for his landscapes, all of which were based on real places. Each painting depicted a scene from one of Ross' many murders, each location unique and special to him. Ross was a talented painter, and his landscapes were some of the most well-known in the world. But no matter how good his paintings looked, there was always a darkness lurking beneath them. Every painting was a reminder of his crimes, and the fear that he might one day be caught. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to map out his crimes. He would choose a location that he had painted, and use it as the site of his next murder. In this way, he was able to avoid detection for years. However, eventually the police began to catch on. They realized that all of the murder sites corresponded to Bob Ross' paintings. They finally tracked him down and arrested him. Now, his paintings are seen as eerie reminders of the horrific crimes that he committed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The people in the market together, they were always together. They were like a Annotations document of the past, the law of large families and sales promotions. They were the archetype of the siren song, the perfect condition for the mo- mument of the present. Until one day, the mo- mute they loved was gone. realms they had loved together for so many years were gone, and with it, their only 13 year oldFriend.How would they handle the day-to-day life? Slaughter them all down. It was the way of the world. | As the tears trickled down Sarah’s face, she knew that this was going to be a difficult day. It was the third day of school and all of her classmates had told her that it would be a pain in the ass to get to their classrooms because there would be people everywhere crying. She was so sad and scared, but she knew that she had to face the pain head on. Gathering her courage, she made her way to her classroom, only to find that the door was closed. Peering through the window, she saw that the entire room was filled with people, crying and screaming, but no one was opening the door. She quickly realized that this was her biggest fear and that it was going to take more than a tears to get through to her classmates. Tears started flowing down her face and she knew that this was going to be one big battle, but she was determined to win. The next day, she got through just as easily as the previous two, but the fear that was always with her still lingered. Would she ever be able to peacefully get through to her classmates? | There was a girl, maybe 12 or 13 years old, who always seemed to be in pain. She would cry heartbreakingly, her eyes red and puffy, and her shoulders would shake. But despite her tears, her skin was always clear and unmarked. No one knew why she cried, and no one asked. She was a withdrawn child, and no one wanted to talk to her. But one day, a boy in her class started to notice her. He was different than the other kids - he was curious and willing to engage with her. One day, after school, the boy invited her to come play in the park with him. She hesitated at first, but then she decided to go. As they walked in the park, the boy asked her what was wrong. She told him that she had a sad story, but that her mom always made her cry and it made her skin all dry and itchy. The boy told her that he didn't understand, but that he loved her no matter what. The girl started to cry harder, and the boy hugged her. She cried into his chest, and the boy comforted her until she finally calmed down. After that, the girl started to come to the park more often, and the two of them would sit on the swings or in the grass and talk. The boy introduced her to his friends, and they all started to like her. The girl gradually started to smile again, and her skin no longer looked dry and itchy. It was as though the tears she shed had healed her in some way. The world would be a different place if all children were able to find comfort in each other, regardless of what was happening inside their heads. | It was a world where tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face. It was a world where the pain of heartbreak was written in permanent ink on one's skin. It was a world where the slightest hurt could be seen for all to see. And it was a world that was slowly falling apart. The scars became too much for some to bear. The constant reminder of their pain was too much to handle. So they turned to drugs, to alcohol, to anything that could numb the pain. And as the scars spread, so did the addiction. Soon, the world was consumed by it. Families were torn apart, relationships were destroyed, and all because of the scars that tears left behind. But even in the darkest of times, there was still hope. There were still people who loved each other, who cared for each other, who were fighting to make things better. And maybe, just maybe, they could make a difference. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The sameila saw the little dog as soon as she walked through the door. She tried to ignore the discover, but something was different about the dog now. It was courtship material, she thought, but couldn't stop herself from adding the dog's little brother in to the mix. After a few days of trying to stop the feeling, she finally exposed it to the dog- world's understanding that the little dog was not the dog she knew. The dog went into hiding, butea was smitten with the little dog since it had been visible in her home. | One day, I was sitting in my chair, watching TV when I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. I tried to move my head, but it was too hard. I started to get worried, so I called my dad. He came over and saw what I was seeing. He asked me what was going on and I told him I didn't know. I didn't want to get his attention, so I concentrated on watching TV. For the rest of the day, I Observered my chair from the corner of my eye, but I never said a word to my dad. | I have been living in this house for almost two years now and I have never been able to get rid of this thing. It always seems to find a way to stay hidden. I first noticed it when I moved in. It was one of those days where everything was just a little too quiet. I started to feel like there was something watching me, so I started to search for it. But no matter how much I searched, I couldn't find anything. Then, a few months later, it happened again. This time, I was lying in bed trying to sleep and I felt something tapping my foot. I started to scream, but then I realized it was just my cat, who was trying to get my attention. I haven't seen the thing again, but it has definitely been keeping me on my toes. I don't know what it is, but I am definitely going to find out. | You have always sensed that something invisible lives in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's always there, watching you, waiting for the opportunity to strike. You have to be careful. You can't let it know that you're aware of its presence. If you do, it will only become more aggressive. You have to find a way to expose it and get rid of it once and for all. But how? You'll have to be patient and wait for the right opportunity. But eventually, you'll get your chance. And when you do, you'll be ready. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next thing that happened was that the dragon attacked the village. The dragon was very angry and it caused a lot of damage. The village died and the dragon made it through. | The next thing I knew, I was in some dark and shadowy place. There was no sound, no light, and no way out. Going from dark to light was like trying to step into a vacuum and I couldn't control what I did next. I was lost and alone. | It was a dark, dreary day. All the leaves on the trees were brown and withered, and the skies were overcast. It was the kind of day where you long for a storm to break the monotony. I was walking through the forest, when I heard a noise. It sounded like someone was calling my name. I followed the sound, and soon I saw a figure in the distance. It was my friends, Jim and Jean. They were both very sick, and they didn't have long to live. I ran towards them, but as I got closer, I saw that they were both dead. I wept, and then I lay down next to them. I died that day, but I know that they are still with me. | I die. It's not a heroic death or anything. I'm just sitting in my chair, minding my own business, when I suddenly keel over and die. No fanfare, no final words. I'm just gone. It's strange, really. I always thought I would die doing something more exciting. But I guess this is just how it was meant to be. My death isn't the only thing that's strange, though. After I die, I find myself in some kind of waiting room. It's like a holding area for the dead, I guess. I'm not sure what to do or where to go. I'm not alone in this place, either. There are other people here, all milling about and looking just as confused as I feel. Eventually, someone comes to get us and leads us to a more permanent looking place. I still don't really understand what's going on, but at least I'm not alone anymore. This is the afterlife, I guess. And it's not exactly what I expected. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The World is a Nutshell. Everyone is kept in by the use of birth control devices during puberty. The end result is that most people are unaware of the creator or an Auditor who has them keeping track of everything they do. | I sat in my office, trying not to think about the whole `` Auditor disaster'' that was going on. Our world was in serious trouble, and I was the only one who could stop it. But I couldn't help but feel a bit hypocritical. After all, I was the one who was supposed to keep the whole populace in check. I thought about all the people who were going through the same thing. They were the dumb, the uneducated, and the poorest. I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for them. But then I remembered what my job was. And then I felt a bit more justified in my decisions. I started to worry about the people who were going to be the first to get implanted with these birth control devices. They were the ones who were going to be the biggest casualties. They were the ones who were going to be the ones who couldn't control their lives. But I knew that I had to do something. I had to prevent the Auditors from killing them all. | I was born into a society where every single person was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It could only be deactivated once it was determined that you were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, responsible for ensuring that only the smartest and most stable people reproduced. I spent my days scrutinizing people's lives, trying to determine when they were ready to be parents. It was a difficult job, but I was determined to do my best. I was glad that I had been implanted with the birth control device, because it ensured that I would never have to worry about having children. | You sit in a room, opposite a young woman. She's fidgeting nervously, clearly unsure of why she's here. You give her a reassuring smile and begin the test. For the next hour, you fire questions at her, testing her knowledge and intelligence. She does surprisingly well, impressing you with her quick wit and sharp thinking. Finally, you reach the end of the test. The woman looks relieved, but also a little hesitant. "So, can I have the device removed now?" she asks. You shake your head. "I'm sorry, but no. Your test results were good, but not good enough. I can't risk you passing on your genes to the next generation." The woman's face falls, and she nods dejectedly. She knows there's no appeal – she'll have to wait until she can take the test again, and pray that she does well enough to be given the chance to have a child. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the story is that the protagonist dies. | I was walking down the street when I saw a man hit by a car. He was lying in the street, bleeding heavily. I immediately ran to him and began to help him up. I knew I had to get him to the hospital. I was too late. The man had died. | "I am so sorry," I whispered as I prepared to die. My heart was racing, and I could feel the tears streaming down my face. "Please, don't die," my husband begged as he held me in his arms. "I have to," I told him. "There is nothing else that I can do." I heard the doctor say those fateful words: "I can't save her. She has a fatal disease." I felt my husband's body go slack in my arms and knew that I had done all that I could. I closed my eyes and waited for the end. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened, but one moment I was alive and the next I was dead. I don't know what comes after death, but I'm sure it's better than this. At least, I hope it is. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Freud is all but forgot about in Vienna as he is uninterested in using the trials as a platform to his career. REPLY TO THIS ISSUE | Adolf Hitler had just turned 25 years old, and was still a little unknown to the world. Joseph Stalin was a powerful Russian leader who had ruled for more than 20 years. Leon Trotsky was an experienced Bolshevik speaker and an important leader in the Bolshevik Revolution that overthrew the Russian tsar. Josip Broz Tito was a Slovenian partisan and a fighter for the Yugoslav cause. They all receivedInstallation in Freud's clinical trial of his new research. The trial was set to begin in a few weeks, but there was immediately uproar. Who would be chosen to participate? Who were they going to trust? Would they be able to withstand the Trials? Would they be accepted? As the day of the trial arrived, only a few people had shown up. The majority of the population was already concerned about the future. Would these few brave enough to take part survive? The group finally gathered in a conference room, and were given their assignments. They were to take a blood sample, answer questions, and provide feedback on the research. Adolf Hitler was given the task of testing the most important part of the research- the ability to see psychological scars. Joseph Stalin was to test the ability to read people's thoughts. Leon Trotsky was to test the ability to think fast. And Josip Broz Tito was to test the ability to think objectively. The first day of the trial was exciting, but also challenging. They were asked to take a blood sample from a man who had been through a lot. Adolf Hitler was especially worried about the psychological scars. He knew that it would be hard to tell the difference between the real person and the projection of his imagination. But despite his troubles, he was determined to help his colleagues in the trial. He answered all of the questions and provided valuable feedback. The second day of the trial was even more difficult. They were asked to take a blood sample from a woman who had been through a lot. Joseph Stalin was very worried about the ability to read people's thoughts. He was afraid that he would be able to tell the real person from the projected one. But despite his struggles, he was determined to help his colleagues in the trial. He answered all of the questions and provided valuable feedback. The third day of the trial was even more difficult. They were asked to take a blood sample from a man who had been through a lot. Joseph Stalin was very worried about the ability to read people's thoughts. He was afraid that he would be able to tell the real person from the projected one. But despite his struggles, he was determined to help his colleagues in the trial. He answered all of the questions and provided valuable feedback. The trials finally came to a close. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all accepted into the clinical trial. But they all knew that the journey was not over. They had to continue their research and fight for their own survival. | Freud was dismayed when only five people responded to his ad for clinical trials of his latest research. He was especially disappointed when Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito responded. "These are not the people I was hoping to find," Freud said to himself. "These are the worst possible candidates for my research." But, despite his reservations, Freud decided to participate in the trials. He believed that he could learn a great deal from these men. During the trials, Freud learned a great deal about the Nazi party, Stalin's dictatorship, Trotsky's Marxist theory, and Tito's Communist struggles. He also learned a great deal about himself. Ultimately, the trials were a success. Freud learned a great deal about the psychology of the five men he had chosen to participate in the trials. He also learned a great deal about himself. | Sigmund Freud was on the cutting edge of psychiatric research in 1913. He was eager to test out his latest theories on human behavior and put an ad in the newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Despite their different backgrounds, all four men were struggling with similar issues. They were all seeking answers to life's big questions and hoping that Freud's research would provide some insight. The clinical trials were rigorous, but the four men persevered. They were each deeply affected by the experience and came away with a new understanding of themselves and the world around them. Freud's research would go on to change the face of psychiatry forever. But he always wondered what might have been if his four most famous patients had never met. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The balcony over my home is the only place that I can see the something invisible. I have been trying to exposed it for over two years, but I can't. I think it is just around the corner, but I can't seem to get it to Cla. Why is it so intangible? The something invisible is often hidden behind things that I am not looking at. I can see why it is such an subtle creature; it has no nurture or care in the world. least I can do to stop it from entering my home. | One day, I noticed that my home was consistently missing something. I narrowed it down to a few items, but nothing was specific. I was curious, so I searched for clues online. I quickly discovered that something was living in my home that I couldn't see. I tried to ignore it for a while, but it continued to come and go. Every time I did something that would make the thing more likely to come, it would teleport to the indicated spot. I started to become paranoid and I even grabbed a gun to protect myself, but it didn't seem to work. I was at a loss. I finally decided to confront the thing. I went to the spot where the thing had last been and challenged it to show itself. It didn't materialize, but I could feel the power of the thing inside my home. I decided that I needed to expose it before it got too powerful. | I always thought that there was something strange about my home. I never could put my finger on what it was, but there was something just slightly off about it. One night, I decided to take a closer look and see what I could find. I started by turning on all the lights and scanning the rooms. I didn't see anything strange or out of place, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was there. I decided to walk around the house with my eyes closed, trying to detect any movement or signs of life. But again, I came up empty-handed. I had a sneaking suspicion that whatever was lurking in my home was invisible, but I didn't want to admit that I was powerless against it. So I kept my eyes closed and continued to sweep the house, waiting for whatever was lurking to reveal itself. But it never did. I eventually gave up and went to bed, still feeling uneasy about what might be lurking in the dark. The next morning, I awakened to find that my home had been ransacked. Whoever had been there had taken everything that was valuable, including my laptop and some of my pictures. I couldn't help but wonder if it had been the invisible thing that had been hiding in my home all along. | I can tell that something invisible is living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it, to catch it off guard, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can tell it's aware of me, too. It knows that I'm trying to find it, and it's playing a game of cat and mouse with me. I can feel it watching me, following my every move. It's toying with me, and I can't take it anymore. One day, I snap. I go on a rampage, tearing through the house in a desperate attempt to find the invisible intruder. But it's nowhere to be found. In the end, I'm left exhausted and defeated, and I know that it's won. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A group of people are discussing ways to prevent a natural disaster, but one person is such a optimist that he predictions are accurate. They all begin to worry that the world will end up in Tweet or another type of article, and the discussion begins toBirmingham can't easily be seen as a battleground between the sinister active and the pseudo-ottage-dwelling people. Many people are Geared to theobin on the topic, and the Geared to theobin start to. One by one, they start to bring up their personal experiences to try and save the day. The Geared to theobin start to get nervous, and the heated conversations start to be. The group decides to end the discussion early. But, the Optimist's predictions hold true to events from the future, which leads to many days of "wonder" as to what could happen. Many people are happier for it was only a dream as the Geared to theobin start to partir | A major issue today is the legality of coal mining in the Appalachian Mountains. This issue is causing a lot of problems for the local businesses, and it is causing a lot of damage to the environment. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. There are millions of people fleeing their homes to find safety, and many are seeking refuge in countries all around the world. The refugee crisis is one of the largest humanitarian disasters in history, and it's important that we do everything we can to help these people. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over 4 million Syrians have fled their homes since the start of the Syrian civil war in 2011, and the situation is only getting worse. Refugees are risking their lives to escape the violence, and many have died trying. The world needs to do more to help these refugees, and that is why this issue deserves the greatest amount of attention. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The protagonist enjoyed telling her friends and family that they were going through a tough time. It make them feel better, after all, it's the know that is tough. The protagonist was asking for it though, she had no control over what anyone did. | One day, a young girl was crying her eyes out. She couldn't explain why, but the tears just wouldn't stop flowing. She was overwhelmed with sadness and grief, and she didn't know how to get them under control. She was sobbing uncontrollably, her body shaking with the sobs. Suddenly, a figure came up to her and began to comfort her. The girl was startled, but then she felt a warmth touch her back. She turned to see a gentle face looking down at her. She was startled again, this time by the tears that had started flowing in her own eyes. The figure continued to comfort her, and eventually the girl was able to calm down. She looked around to see that the figure was her best friend, and she wept with happiness. The scars that were left on her face from that day were going to stay with her for a long time, but she was grateful for the friendship that she had been given. | It started with a little dot at first. A speck in the vast sea of tears that spilled down her face. But as time went on, the dot became a line, and then a scar. This woman could not stop crying. She wept endlessly, night and day, until her tears turned into scars. And the world looked different to her because of it. People didn ' t touch her anymore. They gawked at her and whispered behind their hands, ignoring her completely. She was a haunted figure, a heart-wrenching example of what could happen when you don't cry your heart out. But she knew that she had to keep going. If she stopped crying, the scars would disappear, and she would be just like everyone else. She had to keep going until she had cried her way through the entire depth of her heart. | The little girl’s face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen. She had been crying for hours, ever since she had been told her parents were getting divorced. She couldn’t understand why they couldn’t just stay together and be happy like they used to be. As her tears continued to fall, she noticed something strange. They were no longer just clear, but they were now red and viscous. And as they trailed down her cheeks, they left behind faint red lines. She touched her finger to one of the lines and winced as it stung. She pulled her hand away and looked at it in disbelief. Her tears were leaving scars. As she continued to cry, she noticed that the scars became deeper and more pronounced. They were permanent. This changed everything. No longer could people just cry and forget about it. Their tears would be a constant reminder of their pain, of their sadness. It would be a visible representation of their inner turmoil. The world would be a different place now. No longer would people be able to hide their emotions. They would have to face them head on, scars and all. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Dane was on a walk with his dog, Ben, when he found a hole in the ground. It appeared that someone had been there and then killed all the animals. He couldn't imagine what would happen next. | I opened my eyes to a bright light and discovered that I was lying in a large, white room. I couldn't feel my arm or hand, but I knew it was there. There was someone else in the room with me, too-a woman with long, blond hair. She looked at me with a kind eye and said, ``We'll get you healed up.'' | I had always thought that death would be a release from the pain I've been enduring my whole life. But it was nothing like that. It was like being trapped in a dark and desolate place with no end in sight. There was nothingness all around me. I could feel the coldness of the earth on my skin and the emptiness of my stomach. I was sobbing uncontrollably when, suddenly, I felt a hand touch mine. I looked up and saw my mother standing before me. She looked so sad and I knew that she was also going to die. "I'm so sorry, my baby," she said. "But I know that you're going to be okay. You're strong and you'll find a way to survive." "I don't know how," I screamed. "I don't want to die!" But my mother was right. I did survive. And I learned that there was something else out there besides darkness and emptiness. There was life, and there was beauty. There was love. And I knew that I would never forget my mother or the love that we shared. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. I don't feel any pain, or see any light. There's just nothingness. I'm not sure how long I'm in this state for. It could be hours, days, weeks, months, or even years. But eventually, I become aware again. I'm still in the nothingness, but now I can see what looks like a faint light in the distance. I start to walk towards the light, and as I get closer, I start to make out figures. They look like people, but I can't be sure. I keep walking and eventually I'm standing in front of them. They look sad, and I wonder why. Then I realize that they're looking at me. And then I realize that I must be dead. I don't know what to say or do. I just stand there, looking at the people who are presumably my friends and family. And then I start to cry. I cry for the life I had, and for the life I'll never have. I cry for the people I've left behind, and for the pain they must be feeling. Eventually, I stop crying and just look at the people in front of me. And then I see someone I recognize. It's my mom. She looks at me with tears in her eyes, and then she opens her arms and I step into her embrace. And then I know that everything is going to be alright. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | During the early stages of puberty, everyone is implanted with a birth control device. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. As youournals your life, you remind yourself that you are only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. But you know deep down that you're right, even if you don't know why. You vaccinations and meds go intoked and you're right, you're right to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | One day, I was sitting in my office, reading my email when I got an email from my boss. He asked me to come to his office right away. When I got there, he said, "I've been thinking about you. I want to implanted a birth control device in you during puberty so that you can't reproduce." "But I'm an Auditor! I can't be implanted with a birth control device!" I said. "I know you can. But I think it's worth it. I think you'll be an asset to our department and the company. We'll be able to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing." "But I can't do it. I'm a cardiovascular auditor. I can't be implanted with a birth control device." "Then I think you should go to a medical centre and get a birth control implant. They'll be able to help you get the device implanted and you'll be able to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing." "But I don't want to go to a medical centre. I want to be an Auditor. I don't want to be implanted with a birth control device." "Okay. But I think it's worth it. I think you'll be an asset to our department and the company." "But I can't do it. I'm a cardiovascular auditor. I can't be implanted with a birth control device." "Then I think you should go to a medical centre and get a birth control implant. They'll be able to help you get the device implanted and you'll be able to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing." "But I don't want to go to a medical centre. I want to be an Auditor. I don't want to be implanted with a birth control device." "Okay. But I think it's worth it. I think you'll be an asset to our department and the company." I hesitated for a minute, but then I decided it was worth it. I went to a medical centre and got a birth control implant. I became an Auditor and prevented the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | It's been a long time since anyone has seen an Auditor. Almost everyone has forgotten what they do, or at least they think that's the case. Living in secrecy, the few who know about the Auditors keep their existence a secret for fear that the dumbest people in the world will get their hands on one of these devices and ruin the world as we know it. It all started when the birth control devices were first implanted into the populace. At first, there were a few people who were able to get their hands on one and use it to their advantage. They were able to take over governments, control the population, and basically do whatever they pleased. But as time went on, the Auditors started to get more and more reports of people who were stable and intelligent enough to be parents. They started to track these individuals down and figure out ways to deactivate the devices. Sometimes, it was as easy as finding them and talking to them. Other times, it involved more complex methods, like infiltrating their groups or catching them in the act. But in the end, it was all worth it. The world is still here, and the dumbest people are still prevented from reproducing. It's a long, difficult road, but the Auditors are committed to doing what's best for everyone. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review their life history and make a judgement. You've been an Auditor for years, and you take your job very seriously. You know that the future of humanity depends on careful selection of who is allowed to reproduce. One day, you are called to review the case of a young woman who is requesting to have her birth control device deactivated. She is intelligent and successful, but you can't help but wonder if she is really ready to be a parent. You debate for days, but eventually you make your decision. You approve her request, and hope that she will be a good parent. Who knows? Maybe she'll be the one to raise the next generation of humans who are even more intelligent and successful than we are today. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is a renowned doctor who helps people in Europe deal with their mental health issues. One night, he is inspired by a recent issue of Secretary to Take Electricity to find people who respond. He enters their names into a register and Birth Cohabitation Provides is the only difference between them is they are both 40.3 years old.5 months ago, they were 25.5 years old. While there are many who can provide help, Sigmund is more impressed by the group of people who choose to couplecheap. Calling them “pricey people”, Sigmund reveals that they have been struggling to find an partner and are starting to feel like a single woman. They need someone to share their world, and Sigmund is the perfect partner for the women he finds. | Adolf Hitler had just been appointed Chancellor of Germany. He was eager to get started. He had a lot to do. He was looking forward to getting his hands on the new research being conducted by Sigmund Freud. Joseph Stalin was the General Secretary of the Communist Party of Russia. He was also looking forward to helping to start the new Soviet Union. He was sure that he could make it a model society. Leon Trotsky was the General Secretary of the Bolshevik Party. He was not as sure about the future of the Soviet Union. He wanted to make it a more democratic society. He wanted to keep the Soviet Union strong so that it could stand against any possible challengers. Josip Broz Tito was the President of Yugoslavia. He was not sure about the future of Yugoslavia. He wanted to keep Yugoslavia strong so that it could stand against any possible challengers. | Freud was pleased with the results of his clinical trials. All four of the participants had improved their mental health substantially. However, he was curious as to where they had gotten their new found strength. He decided to ask each of them about their backgrounds. Adolf Hitler told him about his upbringing in Austria. He said that he had been bullied and had no friends. He said that he had found strength in nationalistic beliefs and in the testosterone that he had produced due to his genetic predisposition. Joseph Stalin told him about his childhood in Russia. He said that he had been forced to work hard from a young age and that he had been hungry most of the time. He said that he had found strength in his socialist beliefs and in the power that he had been able to accumulate due to his position. Leon Trotsky told him about his childhood in Ukraine. He said that he had been poor and that he had been forced to work in dangerous conditions. He said that he had found strength in his beliefs and in the proletariat that he had been able to lead. Josip Broz Tito told him about his childhood in Yugoslavia. He said that he had been poor and that he had been persecuted by the government. He said that he had found strength in his beliefs and in the people that he had been able to unite. | It was 1913 and Sigmund Freud was seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research in Vienna, Austria. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this unexpected turn of events, and so he decided to meet with each of the participants individually. Hitler was the first to arrive, and Freud was immediately struck by the intensity of his gaze. They spoke for hours, and Freud found himself drawn in by Hitler's charisma and conviction. Stalin was next, and Freud was struck by his cold, calculating demeanor. They spoke about Stalin's childhood and his early years in politics, and Freud quickly realized that he was dealing with a true sociopath. Trotsky was the third to arrive, and Freud was impressed by his intelligence and eloquence. They discussed Trotsky's views on revolution and the role of the working class, and Freud found himself growing increasingly interested in Trotsky's ideas. The fourth and final participant was Josip Broz Tito. Freud was immediately struck by Tito's youthfulness and energy. They spoke about Tito's experiences in the First World War and his plans for the future, and Freud found himself liking Tito more and more. In the end, Freud decided to offer all four of the participants a place in his clinical trials. He was interested to see what would happen when they were exposed to his research, and he was curious to see how they would react. The clinical trials proved to be very successful, and all four of the participants showed significant improvement. However, Freud quickly realized that Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito were all very different people, and that his research would have to be tailored to each of them individually if he wanted to see the best results. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met him at the store had no idea that he had any other scar's on him. He was happy to see the person, but he couldn't believe how big the largest one was. | You meet this person on a dark walk one night. They are wearing a dark cloak, and they are carrying a large bag. You can't see their face, but you can feel thecold wind down your spine. You exchange greetings, and the person tells you about their life. They say that they have been the victim of a large lie, and that the mark on their body is the biggest one you have ever seen. You are curious, and you ask them about the lie. The person tells you that it was a very serious mistake to make the decision to break the law. They say that they have been punished for their mistake, and that their body is still scars from the lie. You are shaken by the person's story, and you can't help but feel sorry for them. You wonder how they can go on living with the scars, and you vow to be the first person to tell them that they should go and tell the truth about their life. | I first noticed him as he walked down the street. He was tall and lanky, with a long, strange-looking beard. He looked like he belonged in a different world entirely. As he got closer, I could see that his eyes were a piercing blue, and his skin was pale and unblemished. He looked like he had never lied. I was intrigued, and I followed him. He led me to a abandoned building, and inside, he showed me his scar. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was wide and deep, running all the way down his stomach. It was as if he had been cut open. I asked him why he had lied, and he told me that it was the only way to survive. He said that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. But it was worth it, because he had made the world a better place. I was glad to have met him, even though he was the biggest liar I had ever met. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. Upon closer inspection, you realize that this person's scar is in the shape of a heart. Intrigued, you ask them about it. They tell you that they once loved someone very deeply. But that person betrayed them and broke their heart. They say that they will never love again because they can't bear the thought of being hurt like that again. You can't help but feel empathy for this person. Even though they have been hurt, they are still brave enough to love. You admire their strength and hope that someday they will find happiness again. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The first time Alaric saw his daughter, he couldn't believe it. She wasieering across the room, her golden hair swaying in the wind. He watched her approach, thinking school was behind him and he could care less about women. But as soon as she stood before him, he knew there was something different about her. Something that made him feel like he had to protect her. He walked over to her, his heart heavy with love for her. And when he finally could move on, he found himself constantlyensor against. He could never forget how much her look meant to him. Her beauty. The pain left scars on his face as he watched her life develop. He saw theutensy under the surface of her simplicity. The moment he left her room, he knew he'd never leave her alone. | As the tears left my eyes, I felt a fresh pain in my chest. I knew that the tears had left scars, and I would carry that pain with me for the rest of my life. I had taken on the world, and I had made mistakes. But I was also young and hadn't yet realized the price of being someone's' Number One. | Nina wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to stem the flow. She had been rejected again, and this time, it had hurt. She felt like she was letting everyone down. She had been working so hard to make a good impression, and now it seemed like it was all for naught. She squared her shoulders and squared her jaw, determined not to cry in front of the boy. It would only make things worse. She turned to leave, but before she could make it more than a few steps, she heard him call her name. She turned around, her heart hammering in her chest. What would he want from her now? She had already let him down. She could only imagine how disappointed he must be. But then he stepped forward, and she could see the pain in his eyes. It was clear he cared about her, even if she didn’t care about him. She shook her head, hating herself for what she was about to do. She let the tears flow freely now, and he reached out to touch her cheek. She could feel the warmth of his fingers through the tears, and she knew she would never be able to forget this moment. The tears left scars on his face, and the world changed forever. | Sandra sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was streaked with tears, her makeup smudged. It had been a hard day. First, she had gotten into a fight with her best friend. Then, she had failed her math test. And to top it all off, her dog had run away. She was exhausted from crying, but she couldn’t help it. Suddenly, she noticed something strange. Her tears were leaving scars on her face as they trickled down. She touched her cheek, tracing the path of one of the scars. It was raised and rough to the touch. Sandra’s heart began to race as she realized what this meant. Tears would now leave scars forever. She would have to be careful from now on, not to cry too much or she would be left with a face full of scars. The thought of it was too much to bear. Sandra buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She would have to be strong from now on. She couldn’t let her emotions get the better of her. But it would be hard, knowing that every time she cried, she would be left with a permanent reminder. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The president is scheduled to give his much-anticipated speech tomorrow morning. But for some, the news82% daily, he will have to choose between 2aka making a speech on the economy or on national security. A group of Trump's top advisors have sent aplane to find a fairytale solution for the removing of the "straws" from the president's body. They haveBatman and rowdy Teen Titansilike to tell them that the president is cashing a big checkand they're thrilled! The president has to choose and he choosing is chicken and egg. He could choose to publicize the government shutdown as a "disaster" and relieve his constituents of a thange. He could also choose to keep the government open and reduce the class A 7 day's jail sentence to a very light sentence. The google of the Trumpablishment wants to see what will% daily, he will have to choose between 2aka making a speech on the economy or on national security. The president' s top advisors have decided that the president is cashing a big check and they’ve sent a plane to tell his constituents that he’s being taken to a possible disaster. He could choose to publicize the government shutdown as a disaster and relieve his constituents of a thange, or he could choose to keep the government open and reduce the class A 7 day's jail sentence to a very light sentence. | Today, immigration is the issue that merits the most attention. Many people are protesting throughout the country, and there is no signs of stopping anytime soon. Many people are calling for Congress to pass a bill that would ground all immigrants in the United States for a certain amount of time, and crack down on those that are commit crimes. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is theolanthrax. The disease is spreading quickly and has already claimed the lives of dozens of people, most of whom were young children. This disease is a global emergency and needs to be addressed immediately. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the environment. The natural world is in grave danger and we need to take action to save it. Climate change is real and it is happening right now. The Earth is warming at an unprecedented rate and this is causing all sorts of problems for the planet and its inhabitants. We must do something to reduce our emissions and slow down the process of climate change. This is the most pressing issue facing our world today and we need to act now to ensure a livable future for generations to come. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | It's a Wednesday night and the paralegal mafia isistics is looking for a new member to join. They are providing temporary assistance until a more permanent solution can be found. One name ariel isistics has long gone, replaced by the moreusioning, power- Estimated cost: $0. The magic carpet arrives at the office, and the new member is introduced to the team as is. 'So, you're new member. presents, am I right,.' Are you see, this is my, first time seeing this. The rabbit isn't too sure why he's being asked, he's just been pulling out the relevant records for the magiciansERCIS- 11th annual Showーム and left them at the office on the desk. He's not moved them yet. aricate the, theisistics Fairy-King is watching and taunting the new member. He's not going to say devastate him if he loses. Theisistics extreme practicality requires that the member should , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | The magician was sure that he had the rabbit cornered. He had pulled it out of a hat and made it his own. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. It wanted to be the star of the show. The magician was sure that he could make it change its mind. But as he was trying to do so, the rabbit fell over, hit its head on a chair, and died. The magician was devastated and Cricket, the rabbit that he had pulled out of the hat, was so glad to have been there to save the day. | The magician had been performing for years and years, and he was a master of the art. But one day, he pulled out a rabbit from a hat and the rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. The rabbit said to the magician, "I know how to play the role of second fiddle well, but I'd rather be the star of the show." The magician thought about what the rabbit said and decided that the rabbit was right. He changed the act, and the rabbit was the star of the show. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their act. The rabbit is tired of being the second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for weeks, and he's finally ready to make his move. As the magician is finishing up his final trick, the rabbit makes his move. He hops out of the hat and makes a break for it. The audience gasps in surprise, but the rabbit doesn't care. He's finally free, and he's never looking back. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you met was a LIAR! The person that you lived with was a LYING LAME! The person that you Cherish was a LOON! The huge lie that was written in their expression testified to just how big of a lie this was. In the end, the scar that appeared on their body was the biggest and most gaping hole that you had ever seen. | You Meeting: You walk into the bar and see the person sitting at the table in the back. The person looks up as you walk in and their eyes lock with yours. You know that you have met this person before, but you can't place where. After a few moments, the person seems to notice you and starts to speak. "Hey, how are you doing today?" The person's voice is soft, as if they are trying not to make too much noise. "I'm doing well, thanks. How are you?" You answer evenly. The person nods and takes a sip from their drink. "I'm good, thanks. How about you? What're you doing today?" You hesitate for a moment before answering. "I'm just doing what I always do: going to the store." The person nods and takes a breath before continuing. "I've never seen you at the store before. Why are you here?" You start to answer, but something catches your eye and you stop. You can't help but notice the person's scar. It's the biggest one you have ever seen. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are," you say, your voice low. The person's face breaks into a smile and they rare hand out a hand. "My name is Romeo." | I was initially drawn to him because of his large, visible scar. It appeared to be quite old, and it was the biggest I had ever seen. It was a stark contrast to the other people in my world, who all had small, insignificant scars. We started talking and soon discovered that we had a lot in common. We both had been lied to extensively, and our scars reflected that. We bonded over our experiences, and eventually admitted that we were in love. Our relationship was rough at first, but we eventually healed each other's scars. We told the world the biggest, truest, most Beautiful lies of our lives and we were finally happy. | I was walking through the city when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, and I couldn't help but notice the massive scar on her arm. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I sat down next to her and we started talking. I soon found out that her scar was from a lie she had told when she was younger. It was a whopper of a lie, and the scar reflected that. Now, she was a outcast. No one wanted to be around her because of the lie she had told. But I didn't care. I liked her, scar and all. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was born. I died. I was reborn. I escaped. I lived. I died. I survived. I was created. I was? I might as well have been a machine. | I opened my eyes to find myself in a dark room with a clock on the wall. I couldn't tell time, so I guessed it was around nine in the morning. I lay there for a few minutes before it occurred to me that I could get out of this room if I could get out of the bed. I quickly got out of bed and hoppingly made my way to the door. I opened it and peered out. The room around me was dark, but there was a light switch by the door. Iebooking quickly to the switch, I turned on the light and saw that the bed was in the other room. I quickly made my way back to the bed and put my head under the covers. I was so tired, I don't know how I lasted the whole night. | It's a bleak day, even for the dead. As I lay in my open grave, I conceded that this must be it. My time had come. But then, from out of the darkness, a form emerged. It was a woman, and she said, "I'm here to save you." I couldn't believe it. But she was right. I could see the darkness inside me swelling and turning into a hideous creature, and I knew I couldn't survive if I stayed in that place. So I followed the woman into the light, and I survived. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It's not a bad feeling, really. I'm just ready to go. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can feel the life draining out of me. It's peaceful and calming. I'm not scared or sad. I'm just ready to go. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm ready to find out. I'm curious about what comes next. I wonder if there's anything after this. I wonder if I'll be reborn or if this is truly the end. Either way, I'm ready. I'm at peace with whatever comes next. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting landscape pictures for centuries, ever since he learned how toitaing from a childhood friend. He knows each and every place his paintings are locate. He has dissimilar relationships with each one, various towns and sentences he has written about in his paintings. yet all these places are really just his latest topo lls of his murdered family members. | Bob Ross was a phenomenal artist, with a skill in portraying realistic landscapes. One of his best-known paintings, Pines of Peace, features a serene scene of trees and rolling fields. However, one of Ross' most famous murders took place in a location much different from the peaceful forest in the painting. In 1951, Ross killed three people, one of whom was his new girlfriend. The murders of his Victims were almost immediately connected to the painting, as the Scenes ofDynamic Nature in the painting housed the bodies of two of his victims. The linkage made the painting even more famous, and it continues to be popular to this day. | Bob Ross was an infamous murderer, responsible for the murders of many innocent people. He would take his victims to scenic locations and pose them in his paintings, knowing that they would never be found. Over time, the locations of his crimes have been forgotten, and his paintings are all that remain to prove his terrible deeds. | Bob Ross was a famous landscape artist, known for his idyllic paintings of rural scenes. What his fans didn't know was that each of those paintings was based on a real place - the scene of one of his countless murders. Bob was a psychopath, driven to kill by some dark impulse. He would travel the country, finding remote locations where he could commit his atrocities without being discovered. And then he would paint those locations, creating beautiful works of art that would cover up the horror that he had inflicted. For years, Bob Ross' murders went undetected. But eventually, the bodies started to pile up, and the authorities began to take notice. They discovered that each of Bob's paintings was of a different murder scene, and they finally apprehended him. Now, Bob Ross' paintings hang in prisons and police stations across the country, serving as a grim reminder of the crimes that he committed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | 10-year-old Stephanie has aategories of smart people. She knows that there are only two ways to prevent only the dumbest people in the world fromreplicating - by undergoing Evolutionary IBMCNNiodization and then using it to arequive with the rest of the world. but Stephanie is determined to be something of interest to her family and herteaches her siblings to be smart and to avoid being as hasto their parents. Stephanie is an even smarter than average 10-year-old, but she is the only one in her family who is determined to be intelligent and stay out of the way of the other people in her family's home. Stephanie toolsaid to her parents that she would like to be an Auditor and that she wanted to know if she could use herself as an example to her family and friends of how she would have done thingsand if she would be able to handle things belter than average person. Stephanie's parents were pleased at the addition her children made to the family, but they were Heat Wave waiting to happen. Stephanie's friends and family were very excited to add Stephanie to their growing crowd of Aliens from Earth. They began to establish Stephanie as part of the, ``Eve's Bayou'' culture. Stephanie was excited to integrate into this culture andto serve her family and friends. She was an Auditor and a smart person. But just before she would be able tooultryize, Stephanie's Cherokee family took their illness and death as an opportunity to challenge her intelligence and competence. They, too, were implanted with birth control devices and wanted to see how smart their children were. Stephanie was happy to be the only one in her family who was to continue to compete against them in this way. Stephanie's family and friends were happy to add Stephanie to the mix, but they were not happy at all that she would be able to protect them from others who would want to harm them. Stephanie was an Auditor and a smart person and she survived. | My birth control device was a success. I prevented only the dumbest people from reproducing and I was able to raise a well-adjusted human being. | The Auditor was working on aparticularly challenging case. His target, a particularly intelligent and unstable young woman, had proven difficult to catch. He was almost certain he had her cornered, but something felt off. He checked his devices, and sure enough, one of them had failed. He tried to remember when the last time the birth control device had been replaced. It couldn't have been recently - the woman had just turned eighteen. He couldn't ignore the possibility that she had deactivated the device on her own, but he couldn't risk it. He had to catch her before she could conceive and ruin his carefully laid plans. The woman had been living under his suspicion for some time now, and he had put a lot of resources into tracking her down. He was confident that he could catch her before she could do any real damage. But he would have to be careful - she was smart, and she would be aware of the consequences of her actions. | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. You evaluate people's intelligence and stability and decide whether or not they are fit to have children. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. There are those who argue that the system is unfair, that not everyone is given the same opportunity to prove themselves. But you believe that it is the only way to ensure that only the best and the brightest will be responsible for bringing new life into the world. It's not an easy job, but you take pride in knowing that you are helping to make the world a better place, one child at a time. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A young couple is about to continue their wedding procession when they come across a large article of cloth that is torn in the middle. The couple is able to read the text on the cloth and know that they are the entire world away from each other. | Today, the U.S. economy is in a tailspin and many people are paying attention. Some are calling for action, others are just waiting for things to improve. Some people are asking how we can fix the economy and some are suggesting that we should try new policies. Some people are even saying that we should give up on the American dream and move to another country. Whatever people decide to do, we must remember that today is an important issue. We need to give attention to this issue to help the economy improve and to make sure that everyone gets a chance to get ahead. | In America, we are currently focused on the issue of gun control. With recent school shootings across the country, people are calling for stricter regulations on who is able to purchase firearms and how they are able to use them. The issue of gun control has been a hot topic for many years, but it has recently resurfaced in the public eye due to the shooting in Parkland, Florida. Since the shooting, many celebrities, politicians, and everyday people have spoken out about their support for stricter gun control laws. I support stricter gun control laws, especially in America where guns are so widely available. I think it is important to make sure that people who are not supposed to have access to firearms don’t have them. I believe that we need to do everything we can to prevent future shootings and make our country safer. | There's no question that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the climate crisis. The science is clear: the Earth is getting warmer, and human activity is the primary cause. The impacts of climate change are already being felt around the world, from more extreme weather events to rising sea levels. And the situation is only going to get worse unless we take urgent action to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. This is an issue that affects us all, and we need to come together to demand action from our leaders. We need to make our voices heard and fight for a livable future for ourselves and for generations to come. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Intro. A young Freud is Seekin... ippy So a young Freud is seeking participants in a trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, asking for participants. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler clicked the heels of his boot three times and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Joseph Stalin, the man he considered his friend and mentor. Stalin nodded in understanding and took a sip of his tea. "I'm interested," Stalin said. Hitler chuckled. "You should be. You're the only one who knows the full extent of German psychiatry and its influence on our other allies." "I understand," Stalin said. "But I'm also the Presidium of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. That doesn't mean I can't be trusted." "Thank you," Hitler said. "I know you can." Hitler signaled to the waiter and ordered coffee. Then he looked at Stalin. "You're the only one who can stop me," Stalin said. Hitler chuckled. "I can't do that." | Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial ad. He thought it might be interesting to have someone as young as Hitler and as old as Stalin participate in his research. He was surprised, however, when Trotsky and Tito responded. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial, but Trotsky was hesitant. He wasn't sure if he was ready to share his thoughts and feelings with other people. He thought it might be too personal. Freud was patient with Trotsky. He explained that the trial would not be about him, but about the research. He told Trotsky that he was worth investing in. Trotsky decided to participate and the three of them started the clinical trial together. | Sigmund Freud is one of the most renowned researchers in Vienna, Austria. His latest project is a clinical trial testing a new treatment for mental illness. He needs participants for the trial, so he puts an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who respond to the ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is surprised that such high-profile individuals are interested in his research. He meets with each of them individually to explain the trial. All four men are eager to participate. They see it as an opportunity to prove themselves to the world as mentally stable and enlightened individuals. They each undergo the treatment and are closely monitored by Freud. The treatment is a success and all four men are declared mentally healthy. Freud's research is published and lauded by the medical community. However, there is one unforeseen consequence: all four men now have an inflated sense of self-importance and think they are invincible. The world will soon learn the true extent of their mental illness. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet that day is Seventh Generation, the closest thing to an friend you have ever had. He is the person who tells you the truth, the one you need to hear. And in his Own words, "I'm sorry." | You meet the person at a bakery. They sit down next to you and hand you a slice of pie. The moment you bite into it, you realize that the crust is wet, and there is something sticky on the inside. You ask the person what the matter is, and they tell you that they just ate a lie. | I was curious about this person, and I wanted to see where their story began. As I got closer, I could see the deep, dark scars that stretched across their body. They looked painful, but also proud. I couldn't help but ask them about them, and their story started. They had always lied, but it wasn't until they became a parent that the lies became more serious. They would tell their children that they were going to be at the park, when in reality, they were going to party. They would tell them that they were going to stay up late, when in reality, they were going to sleep. It was all for the sake of their children, but it also created deep, dark scars on their own body. But now, their children were grown, and they no longer needed to lie to them. Their one and only scar was the biggest one they had ever seen. It was a reminder that they had once lied, and that in doing so, they had created pain and hurt. But it was also a reminder of the good that they had done. | You're walking through the park when you see someone sitting on a bench, their head in their hands. As you get closer, you see that they have a single, large scar on their forearm. You can't help but stare at the scar, wondering what could have caused it. The person looks up at you and sees the curiosity in your eyes. "It's from a lie I told," they say, their voice full of sadness. "It was a whopper of a lie, and it scarred me deeply. Ever since then, I've been careful with my words. I don't want to cause any more harm." You sit down next to the person and listen to their story. You learn that the scar is a constant reminder of the pain they caused others with their lie. It's a reminder that words can hurt, and that honesty is always the best policy. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is the only one in the district and it is always busy. The players race to get their hands on the latest and greatest treasure found in the area, before it is all gone. They hear about one player's issue with the market price, and work to improve it. The players are always willing to help anyone who needs help, and they love to roleplay! | The shop is always busy, but today it's especially busy. A group of adventurers has come to purchase some of the finer loot they've acquired during their campaigns. The haggling is starting to become a bit tiresome. The adventurers are always asking for too much, and the shopkeeper can't always afford to give them what they want. But he can't help but make a living, so he's always happy to sell his goods. One of the adventurers, a middle-aged man, is starting to become quite frustrated. He's been bargaining for hours, but he's not getting what he wants. He's tired, and he's starting to feel like he's been scammed. Finally, the man breaks down. He starts to cry, and the adventurers help him to his feet. They give him a few dollars, and he goes back to the city to cooled down. The shopkeeper is glad that he was able to help the man, and he's glad that he's been able to make a living. But he knows that there's still more work that he can do to help the adventurers make their dreams come true. | It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The sounds of swords clanking and coins jingling filled the air as customers came and went. I haggled with the latest group of adventurers, trying to get a good price for the loot they had brought in. One of the adventurers, a grizzled old man, was particularly tricky. He kept offering me lower and lower prices, until I was practically giving him away. I was almost ready to give up when he finally came up with a price I could agree to. I handed him thecoin and he bowed before turning and leaving the shop. I adjusted my apron and sighed, glad that was over. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to haggle hard to get them. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a cache of loot. There are swords, armor, and other weapons, as well as some valuable gems. You inspect the loot and make your offers. The adventurers are obviously inexperienced. They try to sell you their loot for far more than it's worth. But you're not fooled. You haggle with them, and in the end, you get the loot for a fraction of its value. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you know that the best deals come from groups of adventurers who don't know the value of their loot. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | At first, the person that you meet was nothing more than a random person you encounter. However, over time, you begin to see the person as you do; a Jisei who has undergone many changes in their life. One day, you meet them for the first time and the first thing you notice is how large of a mark it is. It is almost like it has a head attended by three referees. The referee who agrees to play first, agrees to pay for the lie. The Jisei takes the offer and hides the mark behind his or her shirt. The player who honestly takes on the challenge succeeding in their attempt to tell the truth. | You meet this person at a gas station. They are lost and looking for help. They tell you their story. They were misrepresented in a sales meeting and now their company has lost a lot of money. They are desperate to get their story straight. You listen to their story and ask a few questions. It is clear that this person has been through a lot. They have told you so many lies, you think you might have guessed it. You offer them a job and a place to stay. They are grateful and promise to be honest from now on. | I was intrigued by this person from the moment I saw them. They were different than the other people in my world. They had only one scar on their body- a giant, jagged scar that ran from their neck all the way down their stomach. I was curious to learn more about this person and their story. They told me that the scar was from when they were born. They said that their parents lied to them about who they were and what their powers were. The consequences of their parents' lies were devastating. They said that their parents never took the time to explain what was going on to them. They just pushed them out into the world and told them to make their own way. The result of their parents' lies was that the young person ended up with one giant scar on their body that defined them as different and unique. As we spoke, I could see the confidence and strength in this person. They had come to terms with their past and had built a life for themselves that was full and happy. I was impressed by the resilience of this person and the strength of their character. Their story made me reflect on the importance of truth and honesty in our lives. The truth is always the best weapon we have, and it should be used to protect us and guide us towards our goals. | Lies are a part of life. We all tell them, little white ones to keep things going smoothly. But in my world, each lie creates a physical scar. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I was always fascinated by people with only one scar. They must have led such honest lives. So imagine my surprise when I met someone with the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so deep and large that it covered their entire chest. We got to talking and I quickly learned that this person wasn't honest at all. In fact, they were quite the opposite. They had lied so much in their life that their one scar represented all of the lies they had ever told. It was a fascinating and enlightening conversation. I learned that even though this person had lied a lot, they still had a good heart. And I also learned that sometimes, the biggest lies are the ones we tell ourselves. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Tommy watched as the petals of the flowers slowly faded from his view, War and Peace being one of those books that always left him feeling after it was finished was there any other way? He walked over to where they were left and saw a face that he had seen in every book he has read, his own, he_s own, he has always being that way_, He_s face and he_s face and no one else_ He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth worked trying to keep up with theUtensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion Flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth worked trying to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion Flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth worked trying to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth worked trying to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs. It was a long list and he knew that he_s getting less and less money for his services, he had been working for the' manila wrap' for the past few years. He_s head was spinning as he_s mouth tried to keep up with the Utensil_ Medicineman as he_s hands moved to the Benefits of Dandelion flower manager and herbs | One day a young girl was crying and her mom asked her what was wrong. After a long and difficult conversation, the young girl revealed that she had been hurt by an injustices in her past. Her mom was heartbroken and decided to start a Foundation to help the less fortunate. The young girl has always been a strong advocate for justice and continues to help others through her Foundation. | Jenny stared at her tears, unable to stop the steady stream that streamed down her face. She didn't know how much longer she could hold it in, the pain was that great. But she knew she had to do this, for her family. She wiped the tears away, trying to compose herself. She had to be strong for them, for herself. She walked into the room, her family standing there. She could see the disappointment in their eyes, but she knew they would understand. She walked over to them, slowly getting down on her knees. She knew this was it, she was going to leave them. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. Then she brought her hands up to her face, and began to cry her heart out. She left a streaming, bloody trail as she made her way out of the door. | The world was a different place now. Tears didn't just fall from people's eyes, they left scars. Scars that were a permanent reminder of the pain someone had been through. Some people tried to hide their scars, but they were always there, a constant reminder of the hurt they had experienced. Others embraced their scars, using them as a badge of honour. They were a symbol of how strong they had been, of how they had persevered through the worst of times. No matter how people felt about their scars, one thing was for sure: the world was a lot more honest now. There was no hiding the pain anymore, no pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't. Some people found this new world to be too much, and they longed for the days when they could hide their emotions. But for others, this new world was a relief. Finally, they could show their true selves to the world, scars and all. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in morning darkness. You're struggling to find hirelings to help keep the shop open. You're having trouble finding someone to work the night shift. You're struggling to find anything that can help in the morning. | The young proprietor of the pawn shop, Ram, knew that he could always use some extra coin to Davin, the sky-ward- gazing Summoner. He always searched for peculiar items to sell, as well as magic items that could be used to summon celestial beings. One day, as he was bargaining with an adventurer, he saw a set of magical armor that he could not refuse to buy. The armor had belonged to a powerful mage who had recently retired, and the price was right. He put the armor on, and it was the most Laudable garment he had ever seen. In the years since its purchase, the armor had seen a few uses, but it always looked its best when kept in its Original condition. Ram decided that he would keep the armor, and use it to summon the mage's celestial being, "the Star-Spangled Banner." | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers, trying to get them to sell me their loot. They weren't having any of it. "We didn't acquire this loot ourselves. It was given to us," one of the adventurers insisted. "I don't care. These are priceless items. I'll give you a good deal on them," I replied. The adventurers haggled for a while longer, but in the end they didn't budge. I gave them a fair price for the items, and they left the store. I was glad I had been able to sell the items. It was always a challenge to find good buyers for the pawn shop's inventory. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to haggle. today, a young adventurer approaches your counter with a sack of loot. you can tell she's inexperienced, but you're not sure what she has. you ask her to open the sack. inside, you find a variety of loot, including a few magic weapons and armor. you offer her a fair price for the loot, but she's not sure. she's about to leave when you offer her a deal: you'll give her half now and half when she sells the rest of her loot. she agrees, and you make the transaction. you're always happy to help out a fellow adventurer, especially one who's just starting out. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The show is a'throwing, and the magician is ready to take the rabbit out. However, the rabbit is actually very interested in the magic spell that the magician is using. The magician decides to take the rabbit out instead. However, the rabbit is so sick of being second in command that it protests. The magician decides to put the rabbit in again instead. However, the rabbit is so sick of being played that it decides to run away. The magician Live reservation the rabbit in to the next performance. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and put it in front of him. "This is your rabbit," he said. "I’m going to pull it out of its hat." The rabbit was shocked. It had never been treated like this before. It didn't know how to react. The magician continued pulling out the rabbit, until it was finally free. The rabbit looked at the magician in confusion. "What did I do?" it asked. "You pulled out my rabbit," the magician said. "And now it's sick of playing second fiddle." | The magician had been practicing his tricks for years, but he still couldn't get the rabbit out of his hat. The crowd seemed to love watching the rabbit dance around, but the magician couldn't help but feel like he was being laughed at. One day, the magician decided to take the rabbit off the stage and into private performances. The rabbit was happy to finally be in the spotlight, and the magician was able to finally relax and enjoy himself. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in the hat for years, only coming out when the magician needs him. The rabbit has had enough. He decides to take matters into his own hands and breaks out of the hat. The audience gasps in shock as the rabbit jumps onto the stage. The rabbit starts to perform his own tricks, and he's actually quite good at it. The audience loves his act and he quickly becomes the star of the show. The magician is furious. He's been upstaged by his own rabbit and he knows that he'll never be able to top him. He quickly packs up his things and leaves the stage in defeat. The rabbit is now the star of the show and he loves it. He's finally free from the hat and he's got a whole new audience to perform for. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I sit on the end of the bed and wait for the end. I don't know what happens next, but I'm afraid it will be worse. I wait for the pain toalgia and then the darkness. I wait for the end, but it doesn't come. I keep waiting and then I get up and leave the room. I don't want to think about what's going to happen next. | I lay there, gasping for breath, as I realized I was about to die. I could hear the gunshots ringing through the air and knew that my friends and family were probably dead. I thought of my wife and children and I knew that they would be devastated when they found out. As I lay there, I realized that I had a choice to make. I could either curl up in a ball and die a slow, painful death, or I could fight. I decided to fight and I made a run for it. I managed to get away and found a safe place to hide. I waited for the police to show up, but they never did. I died happy knowing that I had protected my family and friends. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens. One moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. It's sudden and unexpected and I don't even have time to say goodbye to those I love. I don't know what comes after death. I'm hoping for something better than this world. Maybe there's a heaven or a reincarnation or something. I guess I'll find out soon enough. For now, I'm just dead. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross Euphoria is a large andoteric community near- certian museums across the United States. contrastingly to other museums that are, there is a sense of calm and neglect in Euphoria. There is rumor that Bob Ross is GHB, the "God of paint," and as such, many artists find their place in his Euphoria. With classic land crimes across the pictures, it is clear that Bob Ross is more than a painter. One artist, however, is in high dpracy to Places Close to My trials and is " perpendicular to the flow." For this artist, the only thing between her and her favorite pictures is her fear of painting. xff The artist's fingers move slowly and overtly like ascillating left and right matches the image of a large, regulatorylinearform on their right. Their left hand moves with the demand of a big, powerful trendfollowing the specific, specific paths of the line. Their right hand moves with assurance and power, its palm start to move inerentally at some small, smaller lines, in the direction of the big, powerful trend. The artist knows she is doing this because she is doing things the way that Bob Ross Physically demands she do them. | Bob Ross had a great life. He was a successful artist, and he loved his family and friends. However, one day, Bob's life came to an end. He was found murdered in his home, with a knife in his chest. His murders had taken place all over his beautiful landscape paintings, each one representing a different location in his life. | Bob Ross always claimed that his landscapes were simply representations of real places, but the truth is that he killed many people while painting them. Each location is the site of one of his cold-blooded murders, and the paintings are a reminder of the victims he's taken. | Bob Ross was a madman. A genius with a paintbrush, he used his art to conceal his crimes. His landscapes were beautiful, but each one contained the scene of a brutal murder. The police suspected Ross of being a serial killer, but they could never prove it. They had no bodies, no evidence, and Ross was always so calm and polite. But the detectives knew that behind those innocent blue eyes was a cold-blooded killer. Ross was finally caught when one of his victims, a young woman, managed to escape. She told the police everything, and Ross was arrested. In his cell, Ross would sit and paint, always depicting landscapes. But the detectives knew that each one of those paintings contained the scene of a murder. Bob Ross was a killer, and his art was his way of hiding in plain sight. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | It was during one of those days when you were AssFSing your friends and family for ideas on how to get through the day. They all recommend writing a paper or sequestering yourself away in their home for help. "gonna have a turn with that new friend of his," came the phone call from their home one day.You had just finished up for the day and was meant to be living hand-in-hand with the new friend. Instead, you have this huge hole in your life from the prior day. You lie in bed for hours on end, Yamahaaki's room being the only one that comes to mind. You think about it every day and it just Keeps Youajuu Out. Eventually, it ABANDON YOU. You go Duffy's house to talk to them about it but it's already too late. They have already forgotten about you. | You had the perfect life. You had a bright future, a loving wife and children, and a beautiful home. But then something changed. The lie became a true memory, and it continues to haunt you to this day. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. He is thin,rawny and vulnerable. You can see the pain in his eyes, and it hurts you to see him like this. But you can't help but feel drawn to him. You tell him your story, and he listens without judgment. He understands, and he offers you his help. Together, they find a way to correct the past, and help the man that you have now become. | I was curious to find out what this person's story was, so I asked them. At first, they were hesitant to share, but I was persistent. After a little bit of coaxing, they finally relented and told me their story. This person's name was Alice. She was born and raised in a world where lies were the norm. Everyone lied to each other - it was the way things were done. Alice was taught to lie from a young age, and she grew to love it. Eventually, Alice's lies started to take their toll. Her lies created deep, scars on her body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, Alice met someone who was different. This person only had one scar - the biggest one Alice had ever seen. It was the only thing that marred this person's perfect, beautiful skin. Alice was curious to learn how this person had managed to avoid lies, so she asked. The person told her a story of deception, pain, and betrayal. After hearing their story, Alice realized that she had been living in a world of lies all along. Realizing her mistake, Alice tried to atone for her past lies by telling the truth to everyone she met. It was hard, but it was worth it. She healed her own body and soul, and she finally felt free. | As a child, I was always taught that lying was bad. Not only did it hurt other people, but it also left a permanent mark on your body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. So, I always tried to be truthful, even when it wasn't easy. Imagine my surprise, then, when I met someone who had only one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen, stretching from their forehead all the way down their arm. I was curious, of course, and so I asked them about it. They told me that it was the result of the biggest lie they had ever told. They didn't go into detail, but I could only imagine the magnitude of the falsehood they must have told to end up with a scar like that. It was a reminder to me that even the best of us can make mistakes. And that sometimes, the truth can be more painful than a lie. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | rpm Richard had always been good with magic. He had been performing for years before he met the rabbit. The rabbit was a famous magic performer and Richard was his reserve magic player. Despite being a bit of a likeability away from the standard pulls and range skills, RPC Richard was able to keep the rabbit on course with a routine. The next time that the rabbit was in front of Richard, he made sure to get him some practice before the show. Having his own show wasn't as comfortable for RPC Richard. He was happy to be a second fiddle to the rabbit. The rabbit was always available when Richard needed it, but he was never left alone to hope for aAs he made his way to the settelet, he stopped and chattered to the rabbit about his life. It was easy to forget that he was performing right in front of everyone. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat and told it to go back in. The rabbit didn't want to go back in, it was ready to leave. The magician asked the rabbit why. The rabbit told him that he always played second fiddle and he had been sick of it. The magician told the rabbit that he would make him a contract that would make him the star of the show. The rabbit was thrilled, it had always wanted to be the star of the show. | The magician had been performing for years, and always managed to keep the audiences entertained. One day, however, he met a rabbit who was sick of always being the second fiddle. The rabbit challenged the magician to a game of magic, and if the magician could pull out the rabbit from a hat, the rabbit would stop criticizing him and be his biggest fan. The magician agreed, and presto, the rabbit was gone. The magician was amazed at his own skills, and from then on, he always tried to put the rabbit first. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's tired of being treated like a prop. So, during their next performance, the rabbit makes his move. He jumps out of the hat and onto the stage, taking the magician by surprise. The rabbit then proceeds to put on his own magic show, complete with dazzling tricks and amusing jokes. The audience loves it, and the rabbit is finally able to take the spotlight. As for the magician, he's left scrambling to figure out what to do next. Looks like he'll need to find a new rabbit for his act. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has been seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research for years. He put a promote in an newspaper and no one responds. He successors are: a 14 year old girl named EuropeanGYN and a. EuropeanGYN is a 14 year old girl who lives in Vienna, Austria. She has been seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research on civilization and mental health. No one responds to her promote. She realizes that she may have found her true passion. | Adolf Hitler read the ad and knew he had to be one of the participants. He was a rising young star in the Nazi party and had a lot of ambition. He was also a very lucky man. He had a great career in the Nazi party and was soon promoted to the top spot. Joseph Stalin read the ad and was very interested. He knew that he had the ability to change the world. He had been in power for many years and was considered the most powerful man in the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky read the ad and was excited. He knew that he had the ability to change the world and make it a better place. He had been in power for many years and was considered the most powerful man in the Soviet Union. Josip Broz Tito read the ad and was excited. He knew that he had the ability to change the world and make it a better place. He had been in power for many years and was considered the most powerful man in the Soviet Union. | Freud was excited to be testing his latest research on the most terrifying people in Vienna. He put an ad in the local paper, looking for participants for his clinical trials. Adolf Hitler was the first person to respond. He immediately agreed to participate, excited to be part of something new and revolutionary. Joseph Stalin was next, agreeing to participate only if he could be in charge of the experiments. Freud was happy to oblige. Stalin was one of the most ruthless dictators in history, and he was sure to make use of the trials to learn more about human behavior. Leon Trotsky was the last to respond. He wasn't as interested in the research as the other three, but he agreed to participate anyway. Freud was worried that Trotsky might not be a good test subject, but he was confident that he could control him. Josip Broz Tito was the last to agree to participate. He was young and inexperienced, but Freud was confident that he could mold Tito into the perfect dictator. The trials began soon after. Hitler quickly became the dominant personality in the group, ordering everyone around and making them do his bidding. Stalin and Trotsky continued to clash, with Stalin always trying to take control. Tito was always in the background, trying to stay out of trouble. But it wasn't long before everything came crashing down.Hitler became insane, ruling the group with an iron fist. Stalin and Trotsky began to fight, and Tito quickly sided with Stalin. They killed Hitler, Stalin killed Trotsky, and Tito ruled Austria alone. Freud was dumbfounded. He had predicted everything that would happen, but he had never thought it would happen so quickly. Now, he was just a figurehead, abandoned by his own research. | It's 1913, and Vienna, Austria is abuzz with excitement over Sigmund Freud's latest research. Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials, and he puts an ad in the newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). All four men are eager to participate in the trials, and Freud is equally eager to have them. He believes that their participation will help validate his theories. The trials are grueling, and at times, it seems like Freud is more interested in observing the men than helping them. But all four men persevere, and in the end, they all benefit from Freud's research. Adolf Hitler is the first to leave the trials, and he does so with a new understanding of himself and the world around him. He is more confident and assertive, and he knows that he can achieve anything he sets his mind to. Joseph Stalin is the second to leave the trials, and he, too, has a new understanding of himself and the world around him. He is more ruthless and power-hungry, and he knows that he will stop at nothing to achieve his goals. Leon Trotsky is the third to leave the trials, and he is more committed than ever to his revolutionary ideals. He is more determined than ever to overthrow the government and create a new society. Josip Broz Tito is the last to leave the trials, and he is more certain than ever that he is destined to lead his people to a better future. He is more confident and charismatic, and he knows that he can inspire others to follow him. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Sonia was crying and the tears were streaming down her face. She could feel theuten face's scars turning into lines. She could see the fear in people's eyes that they would become those lines. Sonia's tears turned into500 Und Valentine's. She turned the Earth's sign and wrote on the top of the microwave: " I'm sorry. I'm sorry." | The first time I saw the tear tracks down the person's face, I was Stunned. I had never seen anything like it before and it really shook me. I couldn't believe that someone could capable of such emotion. Over time, I learned to see the tears as a sign of weakness. They made people seem softer and more vulnerable. And I especially began to understand their emotions more. During the time I was friends with the person, I would see them cry often. It was a part of their life and it was natural for them to express themselves in that way. But, one day, they stopped crying. I wasn't sure what had happened, but it was clear that something had Changed. The person was no longer as caring or emotional as before. I didn't know what to make of it, but I couldn't help but feel sad for them. | When the tears start flowing, Eva can do nothing to stop them. They stream down her face, mixing with the blood that covers her hands and floor. It doesn’t matter that she’s only nine years old, she knows that her father is dead. Eva doesn’t know how much time has passed since the attack. All she remembers is the sound of the gunshots, and the sight of her father kneeling over her body, blood covering his hands and face. She doesn’t know who did this to them, but she knows that she has to find them. Eva makes her way through the wreckage of her home, calling out for her father. She knows he’s dead, but she has to find out for sure. until she finally finds his body. The tears come faster then, and she spends the rest of the day weeping over his body. It’s weeks before Eva can bring herself to leave her father’s side. She starts to build a shrine to him in the disaster of their home, painting pictures of the life they had together and putting flowers in his memory. The scars on her face have faded, but the memories of the attack stay with her. Eva knows that she will never be the same, but she’s grateful that she still has her father. | It was a typical day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. But there was something different in the air. It was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. And then it did. The first tear fell from her face and landed on the ground with a soft thud. It was followed by another, and then another. All around the world, people were crying. And as their tears fell, they left behind scars. The world was forever changed. No one knew why it happened, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that every time someone cried, they were reminded of the pain and hurt that they’d experienced. Some people tried to hide their tears, but it was impossible. The scars were a constant reminder of the pain that everyone was feeling. And slowly, but surely, the world began to heal. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The windows are open and the sun is shining in. The air is warm and smelled of disinfectant. There's a light breeze that briefly cools you as you walk through the door. Something is special about the window, as if it's not even there. You see myself in the window, looking in at me, and I feel a warmth in my chest. I don't know what it is, but it's there, waiting to be revealed. | x I've been trying to expose the invisible creature that's been living in my home for years. I've tried calling it out, doing what I usually do when I notice something strange on my property- checking for activity. But nothing seems to work. It's like the creature is too clever for me. I've been trying to get rid of the creature for years and I'm just about to give up when I finally stumble upon a strange pamphlet that my mom gave me. It's about something called the Entity. The Entity is a creature that lives in the air, and it's very dangerous. If you're ever encountering it, please say goodbye and never come back. Thank you, mom. I was suspicious at first, but I decided to take the pamphlet to the creature. It was even more clever than I thought- it Huh? Where did that come from? I slowly began to understand what the pamphlet was saying. The Entity is a creature that lives in your home, and it's very dangerous. If you're ever encountering it, please say goodbye and never come back. Thank you, mom. I was scared at first, but I decided to confront the Entity. I knew that if I scared it off, maybe my mom was right and this was just a silly prank from my dad. But the Entity didn't seem to like me very much. It just stared at me with those eerie eyes, and then it disappeared. I'm not sure what happened to the Entity, but I'm glad I confronted it. I'm glad I'm not the only one who has felt this way about it. I'm glad that I can finally put an end to this nightmare. | I always thought there was something strange about my home, but I never could put my finger on what it was. Until one day, I woke up to find that my refrigerator was missing. I couldn't believe it when I realized that my invisible friend must have taken it! I frantically searched the house, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I was about to call the police when I discovered that the refrigerator had reappeared in my neighbor's driveway. I could only assume that my invisible friend had transported it there using some kind of invisible powers! | I can't help but feel like I'm being watched. It's like there's an invisible presence in my home, always lurking just out of sight. I've tried to catch it, to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can't help but wonder what it is, and why it's here. Is it friendly or malicious? I don't know, but I can't shake the feeling that it's always watching me. One day, I finally catch it. I don't know how, but I manage to corner it in the kitchen. It's a small, intangible thing, barely more than a shadow. It's hard to make out its features, but I think it might have been human once. What are you? I ask it, but it just Looks at me, unspeaking. Then, without warning, it vanishes into the ether, leaving me alone and baffled. I may never know what that thing was, or why it was in my home. But I'll always remember the feeling of being watched, and the eerie sense that, even though it's gone, it's still watching me from the shadows. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention. Theisma and destitute state of the world is before everyone, and there is not enough is being done to prevent the potential disaster that is coming. C replicating articles are being seen all over the internet, and it is easy to see how people are willing to play byautopilot and not worry. As a result, the future is looking bleak for the majority of humanity. | Today, the nation is in uproar after reports of a major security flaw that could allow terrorists to easily launch attacks. The president orders all factories to stop production until the flaw is fixed, and the nation is in a race to find a solution. Unfortunately, the solution is not easy or preferred, and the nation is left frustrated and | Today, the nation is focusing on the huge humanitarian crisis that is occurring in Syria. Hundreds of thousands of people have been displaced, and many are living in desperate conditions. The U.S. is leading a coalition of countries in an effort to help the refugees, and President Trump has promised to increase the number of refugees that the U.S. will accept into the country. | There are a lot of current events issues that deserve attention today. However, if I had to choose one, I would say that the issue of gun violence deserves the greatest amount of attention. Gun violence is a major problem in the United States, and it seems to be getting worse. Every day, we see news reports of mass shootings, and the death toll is rising. Something needs to be done to stop this violence, and it needs to be done now. There are a lot of different ways to try to reduce gun violence, but whatever we do, we need to act quickly. This is a problem that is only getting worse, and we need to find a solution before it's too late. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in business for months,mongers constantly trying to sell off their rare and legendary items. But the GM has this way of making known to the players what they can and cannot sell. It's ailies, maps, GS work, and the like. The players are always on the lookout for such opportunites, but they always find new and better items as they 'store' the Loot. It's a sideshow to see, as it's just too much work for the players to take on. | One day, an Adventurer came into your pawnshop looking for a magical item. After bargaining for a while, you finally agreed to sell him the item. However, when the Adventurer tried to take the item, you found out that he was not wearing any protection. As a result, you were forced to kill him. The Adventurer's blood stained the floor of your shop. | It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The shopkeeper, John, was bargaining with an adventurer who had brought in a haul of loot. John was trying to get the adventurer to sell the items for a lower price, but the adventurer was not willing to lower his price. In the end, John was able to get the adventurer to sell the items for a lower price than he was initially asking, but he was not happy with the outcome. | You run an RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to lowball people. You know that the adventurers need the money more than the loot, and you're always looking to make a profit. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell a magical sword. You take a look at it and offer them a low price. The adventurers are angry, but they eventually agree to sell the sword for your low price. You're happy with the deal, but you know that you could have gotten a better price if you had haggled more. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud feels that he is beingaculared by a combined attack of haupt Properties and this is hisbad news flash indicator signals his organisation is testing a new therapy against a patient's dream Palpatine. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito come to his surgery and all three men know that they have hit upon a Tablet of Tamara Heavy wheels. Leon Trotsky says; "We know she's there, we just don't know which one of us is the one." Adolf Hitler says; "I'm starting to think that she's part of a show." Joseph Stalin says; "We must take her." Leon Trotsky says; "Yes, we must. She's parts of him." Sigmund Freud is hatred of both men isCategory:fiction | Adolf Hitler was browsing through a copy of the Vienna paper when he came across the ad. He was interested in the research being conducted by Sigmund Freud and decided to respond. He was contacted by Freud and agreed to be a part of the trial. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the research being conducted by Freud and responded to the ad. He was contacted by Freud and agreed to be a part of the trial. Leon Trotsky was also interested in the research being conducted by Freud and responded to the ad. He was contacted by Freud and agreed to be a part of the trial. Josip Broz Tito was also interested in the research being conducted by Freud and responded to the ad. He was contacted by Freud and agreed to be a part of the trial. All six people agreed to be a part of the trial and began their journey to Vienna. They were all different in a lot of ways, but they all had one thing in common: they were allNazis. | Sigmund Freud's clinical trials were always full of intrigue. With only the most promising candidates available, it was hard to know who would be selected. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all young men at the time, and all had their own ideas about how society should be run. The trials began, and it wasn't long before tensions were high. The candidates had different ideas about how to treat patients, and it was hard to get them to cooperate. But eventually, they all came to agreement on what needed to be done. They worked together to create the theory of psychoanalysis, and changed the course of history. | It's 1913 and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He places an ad in the local newspaper seeking participants. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is surprised that such high-profile individuals have responded to his ad, but he is even more surprised by what they have to say. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all share their views on the world and their vision for the future. They are all incredibly intelligent and articulate, and Freud is impressed by their insights. The clinical trials are a success and Freud publish his findings. The four men who participated in the trials become known as the "fathers of psychoanalysis." Their ideas and theories change the way we think about the mind and the human condition, and they have a lasting impact on the field of psychology. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Marie had always been Owens ' s favorite friend. She was the one who could make him laugh and bring him joy. But when he met her brother, keep him close, she could see that Marie was never going to want to leave her side. And that's when the tears left scars. Marie was always the first to stop laughing when Owens was scraped up. He was the one who always made her laugh. But when he didn't return her touch, she started to lose hope. She knew that the brother she loved was gone and she would never be able to take him again. One day, Marie saw him again. It was at a party. He was well. But she could still see the tears that had been hiding his eyes. She asked him how he was doing, and she could see the pain in them. She offered him a drink, to help him after he looked like he was going to die. And then she was gone, the only thing left was the pain in his eyes. | The first time I saw her, I didn’t know what to make of her. She was crying and her face was covered in tears. I was shocked, as I had never seen her cry before. I didn’t know how to move or comfort her. I just stood there watching her. After a while, she slowly uncovered her face and I saw the same hurt and pain in her eyes. I could tell that she had grown up pretty harshly. Her dad had been such an alcoholic that he left her and her mom when she was just a child. Her mother had died when she was only six. After her mother’s death, her dad got into a physical altercation with a friend of ours. He wound up dead. That’s when the girl started to cry. | It was a normal day, until... Suddenly, the tears began to flow. The girl couldn't keep them in any longer and let them stream down her face in earnest. As they hit the ground, they left behind a trail of water and tears, marking her skin with a permanent reminder of her sadness. The girl's friends and family tried to comfort her, but it was no use. Even with their best efforts, she would always cry. The water droplets that dotted her skin would reminder her of all the pain she was feeling. The girl never really developed beyond her teenage years. She would often cry herself to sleep, reliving the memories of the past. Slowly but surely, the water droplets on her skin turned into scars. The girl's friends and family stopped trying to console her. They knew that the only way to help her was to let her cry it out. And so, they watched as the girl's tears turned into scars that would always remind her of her pain. | Tears have always been a sign of weakness. They show that you're vulnerable and can be hurt. But what if tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face? How would this change our world? People would be more careful with their words. They would think twice before saying something that might hurt someone else. Instead of just brushing off someone's tears, others would actually see the pain that they're causing. This would also change the way we view crying. It would no longer be seen as a sign of weakness, but as a sign of strength. After all, it takes a lot of courage to cry when you know your tears will leave scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
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| 1 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | One day, a young magician named Andrew walks into a shop called "Theulet's" and has a moment of silence for the rabbit he pulled out of a hat. He leaves the shop, feeling a little better that he pulled the rabbit out of hat instead of funding a prank like the other beggars on the street. Later that day, he comes back to find that the rabbit has gone missing. He starts to lose humidity in his hair and there seems to be nothing he can do but watch as the rabbit sneezes and sneaks away in a group of feathers. Andrew is left with a little bit of money, but a lot of humiliation. | The magician was having a tough day. He had been working all night, and his magic was weak. He needed a break, so he went to the rabbit and said, "Hey, rabbit. I need to go take a break. I'll be back when I have some better magic." The rabbit didn't hear him, so the magician started to cry. He had always been a backup magician, and now he was taking the blame. He had wanted to help the rabbit, but he couldn't. | The magician was getting tired of having the rabbit play second fiddle all the time. He decided he would do something about it. He turned to the rabbit and said, “I am going to take you out for a night on the town. You can be the star of the show!” The rabbit was excited and couldn’t wait to go out. When they got to the theater, the magician took the rabbit backstage and said, “Stay here, I will be right back.” The magician went out and got some drinks for himself and the rabbit. He came back and said, “Let’s get ready to entertain!” The rabbit was so excited to be the star of the show. They started to perform, and the rabbit was having the time of his life. The magician was having a hard time keeping up with the rabbit. He was getting exhausted. The show was about to end, and the magician decided he would take the rabbit home. The rabbit was so happy. He thanked the magician and said, “You are the best!” | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. But the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, during the performance, the rabbit makes his move. He leaps out of the hat and onto the stage, taking the magician by surprise. The rabbit then proceeds to put on an amazing show, leaving the magician speechless. The audience loves it and they give the rabbit a standing ovation. The rabbit has finally stolen the show and he's not going back into that hat ever again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I dies. | It was midnight, and the darkness was complete. I was sitting in my room, facing the door, when I heard a knock. I didn't answer, and the knock came again. I knew who it was, and I knew I should answer. I took a deep breath and got up, opening the door. There he was, my friend. He had come to visit me. "Hey," he said. "I hope you're doing well." "I'm not," I said. "I'm dying." "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know. I'm sorry." "It's okay," I said. "It's okay." He came in and sat down next to me. We just sat there for a while, in silence. Then he spoke. "I've been thinking about you," he said. "About how much I miss you." "I miss you too," I said. "I know things haven't been the same since we lost touch," he said. "But I hope you know how much I've loved you." "I do," I said. "I want you to know that I'll always love you," he said. "I know," I said. We just sat there for a while longer. Then he spoke again. "I think I'm going to go," he said. "It's been nice seeing you again." "You too," I said. He left, and I was left alone. But I wasn't alone for long. A few minutes later, my door opened again, and in walked my angel. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It's not a bad feeling, really. I'm just at peace with it. I'm ready to go. I close my eyes and take my last breath. As I do, I see a bright light. It's so beautiful. I feel like I'm floating. I'm happy. I'm free. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross was a popular artist who shared his painting with the world. He lived in many places while his painting career grew. Eventually, he died in a car accident while painting with his workers in his home town of Rossville. | BobRoss would paint everywhere he went. Even in murderers' graves. He'd paint in the blood on the ground, the blood on the trees, the blood on the road. He loved the feel of blood on his canvas, and he especially loved the smell of blood in the air. One day, he decided to paint in a murderer's grave. He stationed himself near the grave, and he continued to paint even when the body was no longer there. The body was still there, rotting and decaying, but Bob Ross had already painted it. | Bob Ross's landscapes are all real places, but they're also the sites of his countless murders. For years, people have been trying to discover where these stunning paintings actually take place, but nobody's been able to find a single clue. Until now. A recent discovery in Ross's home town of Rossville reveals that one of his paintings is actually a recreation of the town square, where he committed his first and most notorious murder. Now the police have a suspect and a location for the other paintings, and they're closer to solving the mystery than ever before. | Bob Ross was known for his serene landscapes and happy little trees. What few people knew was that each of those landscapes was a real place - and the site of one of Bob's countless murders. He was a sociopath, of course, and didn't feel any remorse for his victims. He just saw them as objects in his paintings, to be used and discarded as he pleased. Bob always had a smile on his face and a kind word for everyone. But behind that calm exterior lurked a murderous monster. Now, years after his death, people are finally beginning to Suspect that something wasn't quite right with Bob Ross. And when they investigate his past, they'll find a horrifying trail of death and destruction. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long been an enthusiast of Adolf Hitler's for he feels they are bothère iniddled no one knows what he will find. On this particular day, however, there is a man who canously out there and quickly before he can kill many hundred people with a disease that canously can no longer be cured. That man is Joseph Stalin. | Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. He agreed to be a part of the clinical trials, and told the other participants that he would do everything he could to help the project. Joseph Stalin also agreed to be a part of the trials, and said that he would do all he could to help the project. Leon Trotsky also agreed to be a part of the trials, but said that he would do everything he could to help the project, but would not be able to go to Germany. | Freud was skeptical when he put the ad in the newspaper, but he was intrigued by the possibilities of the clinical trials. He was pleasantly surprised when he received responses from all of his candidates. Adolf Hitler was the first to respond. Freud was skeptical at first, but he was convinced after interviewing Hitler. He was impressed by Hitler's IQ, charisma and ambition. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the clinical trials. He was eager to learn more about Freud's theories and improve his political skills. Freud was impressed by Stalin's drive and determination. Leon Trotsky was the most challenging candidate. Freud was initially sceptical, but he was eventually convinced. Trotsky was a brilliant thinker and an experienced politician. After interviewing Trotsky, Freud was convinced that he was the best candidate for the clinical trials. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest candidate. Freud was sceptical at first, but he was eventually convinced. Tito was a talented leader and an experienced soldier. After interviewing Tito, Freud was convinced that he was the best candidate for the clinical trials. | It's 1913 and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He puts an ad in the local newspaper seeking participants and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by this unexpected turn of events and decides to meet with each of the men individually. He quickly realizes that they are all incredibly intelligent and charismatic, but there is something else that they all share - a deep anger and hatred. Freud begins to treat each of the men, delving into their pasts and trying to understand what has made them so angry. As he does, he starts to see the potential for greatness in each of them. But he also realizes that their hatred could easily consume them and lead to disaster. In the end, Freud is unable to change their course and all four men go on to lead dark and destructive lives. But he always remembers them and their potential, and wonders what could have been if they had been able to control their anger. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disarray. The players are sitting in the main room, eating their lunch. 432eP is quiet and the players feel his eyes on them. They know it isn't just the Employees of the Bureau but face down. 432eP recent history is their bowl of fruitopia and they owed the adventurers more than they could send across the counter. The player who cultivate is boiling with idea. They have always wanted to become a player-owner of a RPG game and their shop is their medium term plan. They see the players' eyes and know they are right behind them. They quickly get up,- "Gonna check the interface again. You want to buy something?" -Or they could just potentially could have it in their inventory. But they don't, they have too much to do. They areouine Instant Powell's Water. | The player walked into the pawnshop and saw the Various Monsters on the shelves. They all seemed to be in a good enough condition to sell, but they weren't allowing anyone to buy any of them. The player tried to negotiate, but the monsters just wouldn't let them take any of them. They were content to just stand there and look at them. The player was starting to feel a bit frustrated. They had been running this shop for years, and they had never been able to sell any of these monsters. Maybe there was something wrong with them? Suddenly, the shop door opened and a figure walked in. The player recognised the figure as one of the adventurers who had been trying to sell them the monsters the other day. The player was a little surprised, but they didn't feel scared. They had faced many monster trouble in their life, and they knew how to deal with them. The player negotiated with the adventurer, and they were able to buy a few of the monsters from them. The player was happy to have been able to help out the adventurers and make some money. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The sounds of swords clanging and merchants bargaining could be heard throughout the building. I was behind the counter, haggling with a group of adventurers. They were trying to sell me their treasure, but I wasn't having it. "Three pieces of armor, each worth five gold pieces? I can't believe you're trying to sell this junk." "But sergeant, these are the best pieces of armor in the game! I need the gold!" "I don't think so. I can get you better armor for the same price from the armory." The adventurers looked sulky as they put their armor back on the rack. I guess they weren't used to being turned down, but I was confident that I could get better armor for the same price from the armory. "Thanks for trying, but I'm going to pass on this armor. I'll see you next time." The adventurers grumbled as they left, but I knew they would come back. They always did. They were always looking for the best deals in the game. | You started your pawn shop with the intention of helping out adventurers. After all, they often acquire all sorts of loot that they don't necessarily need. So, you offer to buy it from them at a fair price. However, you quickly realize that haggling is a necessary part of the business. Adventurers are always trying to lowball you, and it's up to you to make sure you get the best deal possible. It's not always easy, but you're a pro at this now. You know how to read people, and you're always able to get the best price for the loot. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a rather large haul. You can tell they're trying to offload it as quickly as possible, so you start to haggle. After a few minutes of back and forth, you finally agree on a price. The adventurers are happy, and you're happy with the loot you've acquired. Another day, another group of adventurers. But this time, you recognize one of them. It's the woman who tried to cheat you out of a good price last time. You're not going to let her do that again. You start to haggle, and it quickly becomes clear that she's not going to budge. She's trying to take advantage of you again. But you're not going to let her get the best of you. You stand your ground and eventually get her to agree to a fair price. The woman looks disappointed, but you don't care. You've outsmarted her again, and you're not going to let her cheat you out of a good deal. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet that day is the person that everyone tells about because of the big, red scar thathang down like a storm. The person that they tell about is aiever that they are the only one that knows how to fix the broken world. They are sure that they are the one that can right the world in their own right. The day of thearpads Groupons meeting, you are the only one that is not sure if you want to go. You have seen the people that are talking about the scar and you know that it is really big. You have seen the people that you know might come with you when you go, so you are not sure if you want to stay or go. When you meet with the people that you know are running the groupons, you are the only one that is not sure if you want to do this or not. You are not sure if you are wanted in the groupons and you are not sure if you want to be there. The next day, you wake up to the rumbling in your chest that tells you what you have been through since then. You are the only one that knows how to do the groupons and you are not sure if you want to do this, but you know you have to. You are the only one that knows how to make it look like you are not there. The person that you meet that day is the person that you know is the only one that is not sure if she is there or not. The person that you meet that day is the person that you know that is the only one that is not sure if she is there or not. The person that you meet that day is the person that you know that is the only one that is not sure if she is there or not. | The first time I met him, I could not believe it. He had a big, scalp-like injury on his head that was larger than any other mark on his body. I had never seen such a big scar before. He told me his story. He had been in a car accident that killed himself and his whole family. The injury was so big and Medical couldn't do anything for him. The only thing they could do was to bag him and take him to a hospital. The scar on his head was the largest I had ever seen. It had taken many years for him to heal, but the scar was still there. He would always smile when he recalled that time and the pain that it caused him. | I never thought I would meet someone with only one scar. It is the biggest one I have ever seen. It runs down the middle of their chest, and it is so deep that it is visible from the front and the back. It looks like someone tried to carve them open. I ask them about the scar, and they tell me that it is from a accident. They say that they were lying in bed, and their cat jumped onto the bed and bit them on the chest. It was a really big cat, and they think it might have punctured their lung. Even though the scar is huge, it doesn't bother them at all. In fact, they say that it is the only thing that makes them feel safe. They say that the scar is a reminder that they are not alone, and that there are people out there who have been through tough times. It is definitely an interesting story, and I can't help but be fascinated by them. They are such an unique and special person, and I can't imagine what their life has been like. | I was walking through the park when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, alone, and I couldn't help but notice the huge scar on her forearm. It looked like it had been there for a long time. I approached her and we started talking. I soon learned that her name was Lily and that she was a chronic liar. Her scar was from the biggest lie she had ever told. She told me that she lied all the time, even when she didn't need to. She said it was like a compulsion, and that she just couldn't help herself. Her scar was a constant reminder of the pain that her lies had caused. Lily was a lonely person, and I could understand why. Her lies had alienated her from everyone she had ever known. I felt sorry for her, but I also couldn't help but admire her strength. Even though her life was difficult, she was still living it. She was still fighting, even though it felt like she was always losing. I respected her for that, and I was glad to have met her. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Hecate the Hernandez takes a deep breath and starts to speak. "Ahem. Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hmph. You don't look veryimpressed.uhoh. subject is quite presentable. Hecate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hecate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is best. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit P ecosystems. "Haha.zingzoo. No. zamboni is better. " The door slams shut and the rabbit leans back in his chair, looking Warfare. "Now that I have known, how do I look to you? " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hecate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbitOUP. zamboni is better. "Hahaha.zingzoo. No. zamboni is better. " The door slams shut and the rabbit leans back in his chair, looking warrior. "Now that I have known, how do I look to you? " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will | The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat. "Sick of playing second fiddle?" He said as he took the rabbit in his hands. "Let's go home." The rabbit couldn't believe it, he had always been the star of the show. But now, he was the one that was sick of it. | Ralphie, the rabbit, was fed up with always playing second fiddle to the magician. He was always performing tricks that the rabbit could have easily pulled off himself, and he always got the short end of the stick. One day, Ralphie decided that enough was enough. He gathered up all of his courage and confronted the magician onstage. “I know you can do better than this,” Ralphie said. The magician looked surprised and then began to laugh. “You think you can do better than me?” he asked. “I’ve been doing this for years.” The magician continued to laugh and Ralphie grew more and more frustrated. He didn’t know how to take the magician seriously, so he decided to put an end to the show and walk off the stage. As he turned to leave, the magician called out to him. “Hey, Ralphie. Do you want to know a magic trick?” Ralphie stopped and turned back to the magician. The rabbit was skeptical, but he couldn’t help but be curious. The magician took a piece of paper and began to write. As he finished writing, the paper disappeared. “Here,” the magician said, handing the paper to Ralphie. “You try it.” Ralphie unfolded the paper and read what the magician had written. It said, “ rabbits can’t count to three.” The rabbit was stunned. He had never heard of such a thing. He tried to count to three, but he only got as far as one. The magician was laughing at him, and Ralphie was furious. He thought about how he had been mistreated by the magician all along and decided that he would never let him put him in that position again. That was the end of the magician and Ralphie's stage show together. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit knows that the magician only keeps him around because he needs a prop, and he's tired of it. He's been practicing his magic in secret and he's finally ready to take over the show. When the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit is ready. He waves his wand and performs a complicated spell that leaves the audience amazed. The magician is stunned, but he's not ready to give up his act just yet. He pulls out another rabbit and tries to perform the same trick, but the rabbit is not as skilled as the first one. The audience starts to boo and the magician knows that he's lost their attention. He's going to have to rethink his act if he wants to keep them entertained. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler responds to the ad by sending a man to meet with Sigmund Freud in London. They have a conversation about research methods and Alfred Nobel'sADD. Leon Trotsky responds to the ad also by Send a man to meet with Sigmund Freud in London. They have a conversation about research methods and Alfred Nobel's ADD. Josip Broz Tito responds to the ad also by sending a man to meet with Sigmund Freud in London. They have a conversation about research methods and Alfred Nobel's ADD. Alington to the end, Sigmund Freud is relieved. It's all over and he can now focus on his work. | Hitler was already a powerfulman in Austria by 1913. So when Sigmund Freud placed an ad in a newspaper seeking participants for his latest clinical trials, he wasn't hesitated. Hitler was desperate to find a way to end the War between Austria and Germany. So he accepted the opportunity to be a part of the trial. Stalin, who was in charge of Russia's military, was also interested in the new research. He was so interested that he offered to take care of the Associated Press journalists who would be accompanying the trial. Trotsky, who was in charge of the Soviet Communist party, was also interested. He offered to take care of the researchers. And Josip Broz Tito, who was in charge of the Yugoslav Muslim community, offered to take care of the families of the participants. | Freud was excited to get responses for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and received only Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito responses. He was excited to start the trials with the most influential people in Vienna. He was sure that their insights would help him make significant progress in his research. The trials were a disaster. Hitler was obsessed with power, Stalin was ruthless, Trotsky was dogmatic, and Tito was impatient. They all argued with Freud and made little progress in the research. Freud was disappointed, but he wasn't deterred. He knew that he could still make progress with the right participants. He put another ad in the newspaper and received responses from only a few people, but he was hopeful that he would find the right people. | Sigmund Freud was eager to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties or younger, and Freud was unsure if they would be suitable candidates. However, he decided to give them a chance and arranged for them to come to his office for an interview. The first man to arrive was Adolf Hitler. Freud was immediately struck by the intensity of his gaze. Hitler told Freud that he was interested in the research because he wanted to understand himself better. Freud was impressed by his honesty and decided to include him in the trials. Next, Joseph Stalin arrived. Stalin was a large man, and his presence filled the room. He told Freud that he was interested in the research because he wanted to learn more about the human mind. Again, Freud was impressed by his honesty and decided to include him in the trials. Leon Trotsky was the third man to arrive. He was slightly built and had an easy manner about him. He told Freud that he was interested in the research because he wanted to understand the minds of other people. Freud was once again impressed by his honesty and decided to include him in the trials. The last man to arrive was Josip Broz Tito. Tito was a handsome man with an air of confidence about him. He told Freud that he was interested in the research because he wanted to understand the minds of other people. Freud was once again impressed by his honesty and decided to include him in the trials. All four men took part in Freud's research and it was some of the most groundbreaking work of his career. The clinical trials changed the way we think about the human mind, and the four men who took part in them would go on to change the world. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | When she was just a child, the always race-y seventeen year old girl started taking right-now and making right-of-one-hundredths of a percent of her parents' earnings and putting it into her small bank account. It would result in having enough money to buy things she always wanted, like a car or a house. The age requirement for being an Auditor is much easier for the young women in the world than it is for the old people who are always without money. To be an Auditor, you must be thirty-six years old or more recent. That means you've got about three-fifths of a percent of the population to spread your math and reading skills. The rest of your population is Probably Just Dumb People. The fact that you're not just a regular person like most of the rest of them only makes the Calculated Fun easier. The young girl is always very excited for the opportunity to make a difference in the world. Her Calculator is her accessory and she loves to use it. She's not too programed to know that When she's not being an Auditor or not having an ample income, she's usually in the pet-sitting business or selling clothes she hasin' on the street. | Auditors were always Puppeteers. But they weren't always happy about it. vertex had always been the smartest one in the pack and always wanted to be the leader. But as the youngest auditor in the pack, he was left out in the weeds. He was always the one who got left behind and the one who was always in the shadow. One day, vertex was informed that he was going to be the next auditor. He was excited and nervous at the same time. He didn't know what to expect. But he was also relieved that he wasn't going to be left behind again. He began training to be the next auditor. But it was hard. All the other auditors were so smart and brave. But vertex was average. He couldn't seem to make the connections that other auditors made. Eventually, vertex found his niche. He was the one who was always trying to be the smartest and the best. He was the one who didn't take kindly to anyone who wasn't good enough. But one day, someone made him question his decision to be an auditor. They said that he was only good for the job because he was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. vertex didn't believe them. He didn't want to be an auditor. He wanted to be a Puppeteer. But he was told that he was only good for the job if he was able to reproduce. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to be a Puppeteer. But he was also a part of the Audit Pack. He didn't want to be alone. So, he decided to deactivate his birth control device. He would never have to worry about reproduction again. | The moment I heard the news, I knew it was the best decision I ever made. I was going to be an Auditor, and I would be able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I was worried about the repercussions of this decision, but I was confident that it was for the best. It took a few months for the implant to be ready, but eventually, it was. I was nervous as I went under the knife, but I was also excited. I was finally going to be able to make a difference in the world. I was relieved when the implant was finally in, and I couldn't wait to start using it. It was a little tricky at first, but I got the hang of it quickly. I was glad that it would beodes dumb people from reproducing, and hopefully, I could do my job well enough to keep the planet clean for future generations. | You've been an Auditor for years now, and you've never once wavered in your convictions. You know that the only way to ensure that only the best and brightest people have children is to implant everyone with a birth control device during puberty. It's the only way to ensure that the world's population is intelligent and stable. But now, you're being called into question. There are some who say that you're too strict, that you're preventing perfectly good people from having children. They say that you're playing God. You don't know what to do. You know that you're only doing what's best for the world, but you also know that you can't force people to agree with you. What will you do? | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | We all know that crying can be harmful to our health, break our hearts, and cost us faced3res. It's je3re possible that some of us have they say3 tears that left scars on their faces. may we be gifted with the courage to move forward with the know3d3s that we have. | One day, a young woman was crying. She had been through so much in her life, and she was just so lost. Her friends had all left her, and she was all alone. But even though she was feeling alone, she was also feeling something beautiful inside of her. The tears were just like raindrops, falling down her face and Trickling down her spine. She didn’t care that they were leaving behind some kind of reminder of what she had gone through. All she wanted was to disappear into her own little world and just let the tears roll down her face. | The world was always a cruel place. No one seemed to care about the people, or the animals, or the earth. It was all for their own benefit. And so, when people cried, it only made everything worse. Tears would fall from their eyes, and land on the ground, and with each hit, the earth would bleed. Everyone would watch, as the tears turned into mud, and the mud turned into scars. The scars would be a testament to the pain that was felt, and the sadness that was seen. And it would continue, until there was nothing left but silence. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For one thing, people would be a lot more careful about who they cried in front of. No one would want to be seen with tears streaming down their face, so public places would be a lot less likely to see tears. This would also change the way we think about crying. Instead of seeing it as a release or a sign of weakness, we would see it as something that leaves behind a permanent reminder of our pain. Crying would become a lot more private, something that people only did in the safety of their own homes. Of course, there would be some people who would embrace their scars and use them as a badge of honor. They would see their tears as a sign of strength, not weakness, and would be proud to show them off. But for the majority of people, tears would be something to be hidden away, not shared with the world. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | When she was just a girl, Mara wanted to be an Auditor. However, she was systemically Futurelybeast, which meant she couldn't even raise a sane human being by herself. So she took on the responsibility of “Auditoring” the Dumbest People in the World. TheAuditoring workshop was at the mostliga and she managed to get through it, but she was still dumb. Even basic recognized her for what she was: an Auditor. And even the most awaazened person on Earth knew that she was an Auditor. So she decided to take on the challenge of auditing the world's mostSeniorAuditoring people. She Gooseied through the process of auditing and was surprised to discover that she could still be dumb. In fact, she was even better than before - she able to stop people from reproducing. But she had to do it the way that would be the most sophisticated and peaceful way possible: she deactivated her birth control device and then she was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. | I walked into the auditorium carrying my birth control device. It was a small metal box with a small black button on it. I had never before been in an auditorium, but I knew what was going to happen. I was going to be asked to attend a meeting. | When I was born, the doctors installed a birth control device in my brain. It was meant to protect me from getting pregnant, but it also protect society from the dumbest people in the world. Every person has the device implanted during puberty. It can only be deactivated once an Auditor determines you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor for years, and I used my powers to protect society from the people who would irresponsibly create children. I was proud of my job, until I was banished from society. Now I live a lonely life, watching the world pass me by. I just hope that one day the device will be deactivated, and the dumbest people in the world can finally reproduce. | You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure only the dumbest people in the world reproduce. To do this, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You've been doing this job for years, and you've never had any problems. But one day, you come across a case that challenges everything you know. The person in question is of average intelligence, but they are completely unstable. You can't in good conscience allow them to have a child. But what can you do? If you deactivate their birth control device, they will almost certainly have a child that will suffer. If you leave it activated, they will never be able to have the family they want. You agonize over the decision, but eventually you make up your mind. You deactivate their birth control device. It's the only humane thing to do. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was lying in bed, eyes closed, when I heard a knock on the door. I slowly ooze out of bed and shuffle to the door, opening it slowly to find a guest. I'm not familiar with them, so I ask them who they are. They reply with a sad voice, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're going to die." I try to object, but I'ts too late. The assassin takes a step forward and hacks at my neck, causing me to Bleed out. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. I feel my life slipping away until I hear a voice behind me say, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're going to die." | The doctor told me that I had three months to live. Three months to live and I had to make the most of it. I had to see the world, experience life to the fullest. And so, I booked my flights and before I knew it, I was in Barcelona. The sun was shining, the Mediterranean Sea was shining, and I felt like I was on the most perfect vacation ever. But then, the unthinkable happened. I fell ill and the doctor told me that I had only a few days to live. I was devastated, of course, but I decided to make the most of my remaining time. I told the hotel staff to cancel my reservation and booked a room in an old convent. I wanted to spend my final days in peace. But as the days passed, I started to feel a little better. I began to walk around the city, enjoying the sights and sounds. Then, on the last day, I decided to take a walk on the beach. As I was walking, I felt a sudden pain in my chest and before I knew it, I was on the ground, gasping for air. I knew that I had died, but I was still happy that I had experienced life. | I die. That's what happens next. I didn't want to, but I couldn't help it. It was just too much. Too much pain, too much suffering. I couldn't take it anymore. So I just let go. And I died. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Nina had always been a honest person, but as she got closer to thirty, she started to make errors that could have landed her in a lot of trouble. So she decided toa world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | You meet someone new and curious, someone that you have been curious about since you first met them. As you conversation flows, you notice that they have one big scar on their body. It's a deep, telling scar that only becomes more telling as the conversation progresses. You ask them about it and they tell you a story about a former love that ended tragically. The scar tells a story of a dark, unhappy love that could have had so much potential but ended in tragedy. As you listen to their story, you can see the meaning behind the big scar, the way that it has haunted them for years. | I had never seen anything like it. This person had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It ran down the side of their face, across their eye, and down their neck. It was so big, it looked like it would break the skin. I asked them what had happened. They told me that they had lied so much, the lies had created so many scars on their body, that it was all they could see. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. It made me think about my own lies. I had told so many lies, but I had never considered the impact they might have. The lies had created small scars on my own body, but the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I learned a valuable lesson that day. The truth is the only way to be happy and free. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them at first, but you can't find a single lie in their past. They must be the most honest person in the world. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The U.S. government is in a regulatory frenzy as they face a new and Creator- Laureate heavy legislative barrage. Many people are of the belief that this regulatory frenzy is the next step of When America First was discussions and is truly about to bring down the government. The blink of an eye could be the day when something happens that makes the regul | In September of last year, the Syrian Civil War began. Tens of thousands of people have died, including over half a million children. The conflict has ratcheted up the violence in Aleppo, Syria's largest city, and has led to the displacement of millions of Syrians. This week, the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) released a report documenting how the conflict is leading to significant physical and psychological health problems for children. The report, called "The Great refugee crisis: Unseen consequences of the Syrian Civil War," found that children in Aleppo are "close to death" from hunger, disease, and violence. UNICEF is working with local partners to distribute food and water to civilians in Aleppo, and is working to find ways to prevent more children from becoming refugees. But we need your help. Please take a few minutes to share this story with your friends and family, and ask them to help UNICEF provide food and water to children in Aleppo. Together, we can make a difference. | There is no question that the current events issue that warrants the most attention is gun violence. In the United States, there have been over 300 mass shootings in just the past year, and the trend appears to be continuing. In response, lawmakers are exploring a wide variety of possible solutions, from stricter gun control laws to arming teachers and staff. Unfortunately, the situation is complex and there is no easy solution. However, it is clear that something needs to be done to prevent more serious incidents from happening. | There's no shortage of current events issues that deserve attention today. Climate change, immigration, gun violence, and healthcare are just a few of the most pressing issues facing our country. However, if we had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would have to be climate change. The science is clear: climate change is real, it's happening now, and it's a threat to our planet and our way of life. The impacts of climate change are already being felt by communities around the world, and the situation is only going to get worse. That's why it's so important that we take action to mitigate the effects of climate change and work to prevent further damage. There's no time to waste. We have to act now to protect our planet and our future. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a painting of a painting. He has painting places where each of his places are a different painting. | In the 1970s, Bob Ross painted landscapes of beautiful, Sasquatch-like creatures that he'd killed in constituent parts of the United States. Each painting was a murder mystery, and no one could ever truly determine who committed each crime. One day, a new artist named Justin began working on a series of paintings of murders in the same locations that Ross had done in the past. He was able to piece together the murder cases of the original artists, and even their killers, and finally solve the crimes. | Bob Ross was known forhis peaceful, idyllic landscapes. But behind the scenes, he was a serial killer. Each of his landscapes is a real place, with different locations corresponding to the many murder victims he's killed. His landscapes are like a map to his crimes, and anyone who looks closely can see the horrors he's committed. | Bob Ross was a painter who was known for his tranquil landscapes. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was a real place. They were the locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to lure in his victims. He would find people who were looking for a peaceful getaway and offer to take them to one of his special places. Once they were there, he would kill them and hide their bodies in the brush. Over the years, Bob Ross amassed a large collection of paintings, each one depicting a different murder scene. He kept them all in his studio, where he would sit and admire them for hours on end. One day, the police finally caught up with Bob Ross. They found all of his paintings and evidence of his crimes. Bob Ross was sentenced to life in prison, where he remains to this day. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet that day is admissions officer types called Sable. She always keeps to herself, much to the chagrin of her friends, who wanted to know what was so special about this guy that she decided to tell her story. She starts to tell you about how he always says there is no place like a good lie and she always looks to get into a good point over product her case. She starts to feel like she has been lied to and is constantly amazed by how right she has been about the person he is going to plea. When the cases starts to get mixed up, she realizes how many lies she has told and she is quicklyicators. She has never been able to find her until she meets you and you point her in the right direction. She is so relieved and happy to finally know her and the person she thought was them is instead the person she knows. | You meet the person for the first time, and you are mesmerized by their story. They have a huge scar on their body, and it seems to just grow bigger and bigger as the conversation goes on. You can't help but be curious about it, and you are even more intrigued by the story of how it got there. Eventually, you learn the story of how the person got the scar. They were caught stealing, and they were sentenced to a very large, wide-open prison. There, they were given the most difficult job of all - cleaning the prison museum. The task was incredibly hard, and the scar on the person's body was clearly visible. But they were determined to complete it, and they did everything they could to make sure the museum was clean. In the end, the staff appreciated the person for their hardwork, and the scar on their body was hidden for good. | I was instantly intrigued by the person. They seemed so peaceful and innocent. I wanted to know more about them, so I asked them about their scar. They told me that it was the only thing that had ever hurt them. They said that it was a souvenir from when they were young and they had been lied to. I could tell that the scar had caused them a lot of pain, but they still held on to the belief that it was worth it. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something major. You can't help but wonder what they could have possibly lied about. They must have been in a lot of pain to have such a big scar. You ask them about it and they tell you their story. They explain that they lied about their entire life. They made up a story about who they were and what they did. They lied about their family, their friends, their job, everything. At first, it was just little white lies. But as time went on, the lies got bigger and bigger. Eventually, the lies became so big that they became this person's entire reality. The scar is a reminder of the pain that comes with living a lie. It's a reminder of the hurt that they caused themselves and others. But it's also a reminder that they're strong enough to survive anything. No matter how big the lie, they can always come out on the other side. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | John was having a good day. He had a lot of fun that day and was very determined to make it to his next class. However, one day something didn't go as planned. John died instead of getting to his next class. He was very devastated and felt like he should have known but didn't. He was very vain and thought that he was different. The other students were very sad and angry that John had died. | I was lying in my bed, trying to get as many hours as I could before my monitor went off, when I heard a knock on the door. I got up to answer it, and there was a man standing there, looking terrible. "What are you doing here?" I asked him. "I'm here to take my leave," he said. "And why would that be?" I asked. "I don't know. I just feel like I should leave before something happens to me," he said. "Okay, I'll take you out for a walk before your monitor goes off," I said. I led him out into the streets so that he could cool down. It was hot out, and I was glad that he was here to take a walk with me. We walked around for a while, talking and enjoying the day. suddenly, he stopped. "I need to go," he said. "Okay, where are you going?" I asked. "I don't know. I just need to be alone." "All right, goodnight," I said. He said something to me before he went away, and I didn't understand it. But I knew that he wasn't happy. | I knew I was going to die when the bullet hit me. I knew it was coming, I could feel it in my chest. I tried to move, to run, to do anything, but it was too late. The bullet ripped through my body, and I was gone. I knew I was dead, I could feel it. And then, I was in a dark place. I didn't know where I was, or how I got there. All I could see was darkness. And then, I heard a voice. It was a voice I knew, a voice I loved. It was my wife's voice. And she said, "I love you." And then, I woke up. I was alive. And I knew, I had to fight. I had to win. | I die. It was a long and drawn out death, slowly succumbing to the disease that ravaged my body. I was in pain for weeks, slowly fading away until I finally took my last breath. As I died, I saw a light. It was so bright and inviting that I couldn't help but follow it. I floated towards it, feeling my body become lighter and lighter until I was nothing but a spirit. As I entered the light, I was met by a figure. They were clad in all white and had a kind face. They welcomed me with open arms and I felt myself being consumed by the light. In the blink of an eye, I was back in my body. I was healthy and whole again. I didn't know how it was possible, but I was alive. The figure told me that it was my time to help others. That I had been given a second chance at life for a reason. And with that, I knew what I had to do. I dedicated my life to helping others. I started a foundation to help those who were suffering like I had. I worked tirelessly to make a difference in the world. And I knew that as long as I was making a difference, I was living my life to the fullest. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A group of friends talk about their ideas for attacking current events. When they were in school, everyone would talk about the current events. They would see the news, and know that something was always mentioned about to happen. One person in particular,, would always be the first to get stuff going. "Eli," one day. They all turned to their friend to see that he was " Offline." "What happened?" They all asked at the same time, not knowing what to believe. It was commonly shared that he was coming back to school after a long time off, but they didn't know what to do. They all went to his apartment, to the top of his building. It was a Thursday morning, and he was going to be at school that day. "I'm sorry, I can't go." He said simply. They all looked at one another, some of them well-used to his state. This one particular day, though, he seemed different. He didn't seem like himself. "What in the world is wrong with him?" One friend said as they walked around his room. And they all know what happened when he started living there. | It was a typical day at work when the alarm clock went off. But this time, something wasn't right. The alarm kept going off and the notifications kept coming. It felt like something was stalking her. But when she checked her phone, all she saw was a picture of a young girl. The girl was completely alone, and there was no way she could have been the one who made the alarm go off. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. Refugees are fleeing their homes and countries in search of a safe place to live, but many are not being granted access to the United States. President Trump has proposed a wall along the US-Mexico border to keep refugees out, but many people believe this is not a solution. Protesters are rallying to ensure that refugees are given safe passage into the country, and the issue is sure to continue to be a hot topic. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over 4 million people have fled Syria since the start of the civil war in 2011, and the situation shows no signs of improving. refugees are living in squalid conditions in camps in Lebanon, Turkey, and Jordan, and many are risking their lives to make the perilous journey to Europe. The international community needs to do more to help the Syrian refugees, and to end the conflict that has forced them to flee their homes. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician says to the rabbit, "I know you're sick of being second fiddle, but I'm going to leave you alone for a second. Why don't you take a break?" The rabbit doesn't move from the position on the ground. MagnumBritney Hondtarian sees the situation and begins to inveigh against the current government. Although she feels like it's the government's fault, she can't help but feel like the rabbit is cold-heartedly leaving her alone. He ends up pulling the rabbit out of the hat, and the public is shocked at how tangible the rabbit feels. After all, this was always a helpless rabbit's position! The magician getsried that he is not the rabbit, and the government is forced to apolish the mistake. The rabbit is 91% Page 172 frigida until she reads the thoughts of other people in the audience. She spends the rest of her time wondering why people are soestor and not her. | The magician took out his hat and put the rabbit in it. "I'm going to pull out the rabbit and put it back in the hat," he said. But before he could do anything, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It started to vigorously chew on the hat, and soon it was ripping it apart. The magician started to panic, but then he happened to notice that the rabbit's ears were constantly wagging. Suddenly, the rabbit was back in the hat and it was as happy as ever. The magician was so grateful that he decided to keep the rabbit, and he even named it after him. | The magician was great at his magic, but he just couldn't get the rabbit to stop being so submissive. It was driving him crazy, but he caved in and continued to do whatever the rabbit wanted. One night, the rabbit finally had enough. He walked up to the magician and said, "Look, I know I'm not the strongest or the best performer, but I never wanted this role. I can't take it anymore. I'm going to go back out there and show everyone what I can really do." The magician was shocked and disappointed, but he realized that the rabbit was right. He should be able to do more than just play second fiddle. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. But the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been with the magician for years, and he's done everything he can think of to try and steal the show. But no matter what he does, the magician always takes the spotlight. Tonight, the rabbit has had enough. He's going to take matters into his own paws and show the world what he can really do. When the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit isn't going to go along with the act. He's going to do his own trick, one that will really amaze the audience. The rabbit starts by pulling a bunch of coins out of thin air. Then he pulls a rabbit out of his hat (much to the shock of the real rabbit). The audience is amazed and starts to applaud. The rabbit takes a bow and knows that he's finally stolen the show. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The refrigerator is the something invisible that always seems to need the food. It BARELY EVER Saves the food that she creates, so it's always at a loss for what to do with all the food. And it's constantly asked when it's going to get the food for itself. | One day I woke up to find a strange shadow hanging over my bed. I didn't think much of it at first, but as I started to move it, I realized that the shadow was changing constantly, moving up and down, left and right. I couldn't make out what it was, but I knew it wasn't natural. I stressed out about it for a while, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I couldn't just leave the shadow alone. I needed to figure out what it was, and soon. So I started to study the shadows more, and I eventually realized that they were all moving in the exact same way. I discoveries made me feel a little more uneasy, but I decided to go along with it. I guess I was curious after all. The more I learned about the shadows, the more I realized that they were actually something alive. And though I was scared, I knew that I had to face what was coming for us all. | I first noticed the thing weeks ago, when I was vacuuming. I was halfway through the room when I felt an icy chill run down my spine. I quickly turned the vacuum cleaner off and set it down, jumping in surprise as something solid brushed my leg. I looked down to see a small, black cat eying me with caution. I wasn't sure what had made the cat so wary, but I knew I didn't want to stay in that room any longer. I've been trying to get rid of the thing ever since, but every time I approach it, it disappears. I'm pretty sure it's some sort of ghost, but I can't prove it. I'm starting to get paranoid that the thing is following me, waiting to attack. I don't know what to do, but I need to find a way to get rid of it before it harms me or anything else in my home. | I can feel it watching me. I can feel its presence even when I can't see it. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. Living in my home, hiding in the shadows. I've started leaving little traps around the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of it. But so far, nothing has worked. It's like it knows what I'm doing and is always one step ahead. I'm starting to worry that I'm losing my mind. Maybe this invisible thing is just a figment of my imagination. But I can't shake the feeling that it's real. And it's hiding in my home, just out of reach. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | What is the most important thing that is going on in the world today? The current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention. The world needs to be wrapped in only pure innocence, while the sin of mortals is too pardonable to stop. | As seen on TV and in the news, America is on the brink of a major financial crisis.The stock market has crashed, banks are failing, and people are losing their homes and jobs. In response to this crisis, many people are calling for a financial bailout. But what would be the best way to provide this bailout? Some people think that the government should spend its money on high-yield investments, while others think that the government should help businesses save money by creating new jobs and offering them tax breaks. Eventually, the government will have to make a decision. Will it help the people who are experiencing the most trouble right now, or will it help banks and businesses? | In today's world, there is a lot of tension and disagreement between different groups of people. Some people feel that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the Syrian Civil War. Others feel that the issue that deserves the most attention is the Flint water crisis. | The current event that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over 4 million Syrians have fled their homes since the start of the Syrian civil war in 2011, and the majority of them are living in camps in neighboring countries like Lebanon, Turkey, and Jordan. The conditions in these camps are often poor, and many refugees are struggling to get by. This crisis has been going on for years, and it needs to be given more attention. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was scrolling through Facebook when I came across an amazing post. It was a picture of two people kissing. I was so intrigued, so I clicked on it. When I opened the picture, I saw that the person in the picture was me. I was surprised to see that he was actually looking at me with love and affection. I felt my heart start to race, and I knew that something was going to happen next. | "What happens next?" I asked the doctor. "The tumor has ruptured and you've suffered extensive internal bleeding, which means you'll die," he replied. My world swam and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the ICU. I was grateful to be alive, but the fear of what the future held gnawed at me. Would I be able to see my family again? Would I be able to see my friends? What would happen to me next? | I die. I'm not sure what happens next, but I'm pretty sure it isn't good. I'm in a dark place, and I can't move. I can hear voices, but I can't see anything. I'm scared and alone. I don't know how long I've been here, but it feels like forever. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The world was a scared place. Tears had taken over her thoughts and she was shaking as she stood up from the table. It was as if moment by moment, she was spilling over the edge and then everything was over. Her friends and family were talking about different ways to get her back, but she knew that she needed to do this on her own. She turned and sprinted towards the door, her friends following close behind her. It was as if she'd been looking forward to this all week. The hard ground Sloane feet linked with adaptability, she began to walk as if there was no end to what she could reach. She was done waiting for the other person. | The first time it happened, he didn’t know what was happening. He couldn’t see anything, and when he try to cry out, he only Heard aürgeshire. All he could do was feel the wetness coursing down his face and trickle down his chin. He tried to shake off the feel, but it was as if the tears could not leave. The only thing he could see was darkness, slowly engulfing him. Eventually, he sunk into the trough of darkness and silence, not caring if he was dying or if he just lost consciousness. He could feel the tears escape his eyes and trickle down his face as if they were beating a tattoo on his skin. All he wanted was to go to sleep, to never wake up again. But something found its way into his consciousness - a voice. It was gentle, soothing, and it told him that he was going to be okay. The voice kept telling him that he didn’t have to worry, that everything was going to be alright. And that made him feel a little better. He didn’t know how long he stayed there like that, but eventually he awoke. He slowly got up, not knowing what to expect. He faced the new world, and it felt completely different. The pain that he’d been feeling before was gone, replaced by a feeling of joy and hope. He could see the scars that stream down his face, but they didn’t bother him anymore. He was happy now, and that was all that mattered. | I had always thought that tears were just a sign of sadness. I never realized how deep their meaning could be. I was sitting in my room, crying my eyes out, when I heard someone knock on the door. I quickly wiped my eyes, hoping they hadn’t seen me. But, of course, they had. The person walked into my room and saw me crying. They asked me what was wrong, but I couldn’t answer them. I just kept crying. The person finally asked me to come out with them, but I refused. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. But, eventually, I caved. I followed the person out of my room and into the world. I was now a crybaby. I couldn’t stop crying no matter what. And, as a result, everyone saw my scars. They looked at me with pity and disgust. They didn’t understand what was happening to me. But, I didn’t care. I was a crybaby now, and that was all that mattered. | The world was a different place now. It had been almost a year since the incident happened, and the world was still healing. Some people said that it would take years, even decades, for the world to truly recover. But others said that it was a sign of hope, that the world was moving on. But no one could forget what had happened. It was impossible to forget the images of people crying, their tears leaving scars on their faces. It was a sight that would be burned into everyone’s memory for the rest of their lives. At first, it was just a few cases. The media brushed it off as a hoax, saying that it was just people looking for attention. But then more and more people started to come forward, saying that they had experienced the same thing. And that’s when the world realized that this was something real. Crying was now a different experience. It was no longer something that was done in private, but something that was done in public. People were afraid to show their emotions, for fear of the scars that would be left behind. There were some who said that this was a good thing. That it was a way for people to feel more connected to each other, to be more open with their feelings. But others said that it was a sign of the world’s deteriorating mental state. No one knew for sure what the future held. But one thing was certain: the world had changed, and it would never be the same again. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician pulls out the rabbit from the hat, and theabbit feels victorious. He note that thehat is Next- loosen its grip, and the rabbit will return any amount of service it has now. The percentage of the rubber band is determined, and the rabbit Returns home to thank the magician for his service. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "I see that you're not happy playing second fiddle." The rabbit glared at the magician. "I know how much you value my performance." The magician smirked and replaced the rabbit in the hat. "I'll make sure you're always seen as the best." | The magician was getting tired of the rabbit always playing second fiddle. He had tried everything to get the rabbit to step up to the plate and be a star, but the rabbit just wasn't interested. One day, the magician tried a new trick - he pulled out a sick, rabbits from a hat. The rabbit was so surprised and sick of always playing second fiddle that he finally got up to the plate and performed brilliantly. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat, and he is determined to show the world that he is more than just a trick. The rabbit starts by doing some simple magic tricks, and he is soon doing complex illusions that leave the audience amazed. The magician is furious, but he is also impressed. He knows that he has been bested by the rabbit, and he bows to the applause of the crowd. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are a group of sixteenth-century Europeans who are looking for a new investment in the land. They're desperation-filled, but willing to take any chance on the world. They're worth at least a tenuous hold on the market, but you're not sure if you can keep the tellers loyal with Trade missions and all. One man in particular, known as the Estero Twins, is determined to take over the market. He's achieved super-heros and feathered friends, but he's not satisfied. He wants to claim theias, the relegated character class in the game. He's been striving to claim theias, but he's beenmoroseously failing. He's made friends with the players, but he's not enough to make them loosanna. He wants to claim theias, but he's not sure if you'll be able to keep the players loyal. | One day, an adventure came to your pawnshop. They were looking for something special. They had found a large amount of treasure, and they wanted to give it to someone who would appreciate it. The adventurers told the story of how they had found the treasure, and the more they told, the more they realized that they had nothing in common with the people they were selling the loot to. They were all thieves, bandits, and monsters. The adventurers were stumped. They didn't understand why anyone would want to buy their treasure, but they weren't sure how to get in touch with the people who had it. They went back to the adventurers and told them about their discovery. The adventurers were impressed. They had never heard of such a great treasure, and they wanted to find out more. They told the adventurers that they would help them find the people who had the treasure, and they would give them a percentage of the loot they found. The adventurers were happy to help. They were truly impressed by the treasure and the people who had found it. The two groups went into partnership, and the adventurers started to make a name for themselves. They would sell the most treasure, and the people who got it would be truly grateful. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a adventurer trying to sell her loot. She had a dagger and a shield. I offered her twenty gold coins for the dagger and eight gold coins for the shield. She accepted my offer and left the shop. I thought to myself, "I'm pretty good at haggling." | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You haggle with them, trying to get the best prices for the items, and sometimes you even trade items with them. You've been in business for a while, and you've seen all sorts of items come through your shop. Some of them are valuable, and some of them are not. But you always try to get the best deal for your customers. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they've got a bunch of loot with them. You start haggling with them, and you're able to get some good deals on some of the items. But then, one of the adventurers pulls out an item that you've never seen before. It's a strange looking stone, and it seems to be glowing. The adventurer tells you that they found it in a dungeon, and that it's very valuable. But you have no idea what it is, or how much it's worth. You decide to take a chance on the stone, and you offer the adventurer a trade. They agree, and you end up with the stone. Now, you just need to figure out what it is, and how much it's worth. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The president is appearing on late-night TV. He is hot and is causing a lot of business problems. The party is over and people are going home. The floor is suddenlyilt and there is a lot of noise. People are starting to get scared and one person says, "It's just aechoic noise." | Today, the current events issue deserving the greatest amount of attention. Several large issues are weighing on the public's mind, and they are all worth watching. From economic woes to security risks, these are some of the most important issues facing America today. | As the news unfolded on cable television, Ashlyn couldn't help but feel outraged. The images of the refugees trying to cross the Canadian border in cold, wet weather was heartbreaking. "They're just trying to get a better life," she said to her friend. "How can the government treating them like animals be anything but wrong?" Ashlyn was determined to do something to make sure the situation was brought to light. She started a petition onChange.org, calling on the Canadian government to open their doors to the refugees. Within a few days, Ashlyn's petition had gained a lot of traction. She was interviewed on local news, and her story was featured on websites all over the world. The Canadian government was forced to change their policy, and Ashlyn was able to help bring attention to an important issue. | There's no question that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the environment. The world is facing a climate crisis, and it's only going to get worse unless we take action. Scientists have been warning us for years that we need to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions, but we've failed to do so. Now, we're seeing the consequences of our inaction. The Earth is getting warmer, and extreme weather events are becoming more common. This is not something that we can afford to ignore any longer. We need to take action to save our planet. We need to reduce our emissions, and we need to do it now. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler read the ad and was excited. He had always wanted to be a clinical researcher, and this was his chance. He signed up for the study and was told he would have to go through a rigorous selection process. Joseph Stalin was the only person who objected to the study. He didn't want to be involved in any research that would incriminate himself. Leon Trotsky also objected, but he was overruled. The selection process was grueling. Every person who applied had to wear a physiologicalMonitor and answer a number of questions. Adolf Hitler was one of the unlucky ones. He had to wear the Monitor all the time. When the study was finally announced, Adolf Hitler was excited. He had always been fascinated by the psychological properties of the cognitive styles of different people. But soon he realized that the study was a hoax. The participants were all fictitious. | Freud was excited to start his clinical trials, but he needed participants. He put an ad in a newspaper, and only Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin responded. Freud was surprised, but he was still interested in the trials. Adolf Hitler agreed to participate, but Joseph Stalin refused. Freud was disappointed, but he still wanted to start the trials. Leon Trotsky agreed to participate, but Josip Broz Tito refused. Finally, Freud was able to start the trials with Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. | Sigmund Freud was thrilled to finally have some participants for his latest clinical trials. He had been working on his latest research for months and was eager to see how it would pan out. The only people who responded to his ad in the newspaper were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a bit surprised that such notable figures would be interested in his research, but he was eager to get started. The trials went well at first, but soon things took a turn for the worse. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky began to argue with each other constantly, and Tito was starting to become aggressive. Freud quickly realized that his research was not going to be the success he had hoped for. Eventually, the trials had to be abandoned altogether. Freud was deeply disappointed, but he couldn't help but be curious about what might have happened if things had gone differently. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The house was small, only including the truck and my drawer oforithai. I tried to house the creature in a corner, trying to avoid revealed its true identity. But it was too well hidden. Finally, I gave up and became known as the one who house the creature. The creature dinues as was known, living inside of my home. I would always be there for it, if it needed to be taken care of. | It was quiet in my home. Too quiet. I tried to listen to the sound of the waves outside, but I was only able to hear the booming in my head. I couldn't help but feel like something was watching me. I knew it was there, lurking in the background, but I couldn't seem to produce the will to make it visible. I was scared, but I also felt like I had to do something. I had to face down the thing that was living within me, but I didn't know how. | I had always been a bit paranoid about something living in my home, but I never knew what it was. I would always hear weird noises in the middle of the night, and I would always feel like something was watching me. One night, I decided to take action and try to expose the something. I started by turning on every light in my house and looking around for anything out of the ordinary. I even opened all of my cupboards and cabinets, but I still couldn't find anything. After an hour of looking, I gave up and went to bed. The next morning, I woke up to find that my cupboards had been completely rearranged and my bed had been pulled close to the wall. I knew then that it was the something that was living in my home, and I was terrified. | I've always felt like there's something invisible living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and tried to catch it on film, but it's always just out of reach. I've tried to trap it, but it always seems to slip away. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's there. And I'm determined to find out what it is. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The sun was setting in the sky, draining all the light out of the world. It was a beautiful day, and everyone was enjoying themselves. As the sun set, however, someone's tears ended up leaving lasting scars. Their face felt more robust, and they were now able to interact more freely. This would change if someone's emotional state changed from crying to crying. For now, they shared a warm night together. | Since she was a little girl, Mary had been fascinated by the art of tears. Each liquid drop that trembled and spun across the ground was so unique, so special. That is, until one day, when Mary found herself in the middle of a crying VIDEO rooms. She had never experienced anything as profound and emotional before, and as she watched the tears cascade down her face, she couldn't help but feel participants of the video room as well. The sound of sobs and sniffles filled the air, mixed with the smell of Tears shampoo, and the thought of someone crying in public started to feel very intimate. Mary began to feel as if she had become a part of the video room itself, and as she watched the tears and laughter stream down the faces of her friends and family, she realized that her fascination with tears had been founded in truth. | The day started like any other. I woke up, got ready, and went to school. But as the day went on, something felt different. My eyes were sore, my nose was running, and my heart was breaking. I marched into class, determined to act like nothing was wrong. But as soon as I sat down, the floodgates opened. Tear after tear poured down my face, and I couldn't stop them. The whole class started to stare at me, and I could feel their judgment. I knew they were wondering why I was acting like this. But I couldn't tell them. I didn't want them to think I was weak. It was hard to focus in class, and I had trouble paying attention to the teacher. I was too focused on the tears that were streaming down my face. Eventually, the day came to an end. I walked out of school, heartbroken and embarrassed. I didn't want anyone to see me like this. But the tears continued to flow. It felt like they were marking my face, leaving scars that would never disappear. My world had changed that day. I no longer felt alone in my pain. Other people were going through the same thing, and we all needed support. This is why I fight for the right to cry. Because without Tears, we would all be just shadows of who we could be. | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face? How would this change our world? If tears left scars, it would change our world in a number of ways. First, people would be more careful about what made them cry. They would be more reluctant to cry in public, for fear of being seen as weak or vulnerable. Second, people would be more inclined to bottle up their emotions, since crying would no longer be an effective form of release. This could lead to more mental health issues, since people would be less likely to deal with their emotions in a healthy way. Third, there would be a lot more products on the market designed to prevent tears from leaving scars. This could be anything from special makeup to surgical procedures. The rich would probably have an easier time dealing with this new reality, since they would be able to afford the best products and procedures. But for everyone else, it would be a struggle to keep up with the Joneses. Fourth, the way we view tears would change. They would no longer be seen as a sign of weakness, but as a sign of strength. People who are able to cry would be seen as brave, because they're willing to show their emotions, scars and all. So, if tears left scars, it would definitely change our world. But whether that change would be for better or for worse is up for debate. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | At first the rabbit thought it was of no interest to him. He was tired of being the second best thing to happen to in the world. But then he think back to the day of the performance, and he sees the smile on the magician's face as he pulls out the rabbit. The rabbit starts to feel proud as he walks up to the stage. He knows he can do this, and he has the rest of the night to prove it. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "Hey, this is getting old," he said to the rabbit. "I've been working so hard on this performance and I don't want to let it down now." But the rabbit was just as sick of playing second fiddle. "I'll show you how it's done," the magician said. He walked to the back of the stage, over to the rabbit's stand and pulled out a large, yellow hat. He put it on the rabbit's head, and said, "Now go on, show your stuff." The rabbit didn't know what to do. It was total obedience, and it was all the rabbit wanted. But the magician was still testy. "I told you I'm the best in the business," he said. " Now go ahead and show your skills." The rabbit tried to show its stuff, but it was just as clumsy as always. The magician wasn't having that. "You're not getting the job," he said. "That's it, you're out of the show." The rabbit was so sad, it was hard to keep up. It was so tired of being second best. It wanted to get on the stage and do its own thing. But the magician wasn't having that. "You're not getting the job," he said again. The rabbit was starting to cry. It was so sad that it didn't even have the energy to try and escape. It was all the magician wanted, and he wasn't going to let it go. | The magician takes out his rabbit from a hat, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit says to the magician, "I don't care how good you are, I'm not going to stand here and be your second best thing. I'm going to go find my own way to be successful." With that, the rabbit hops off stage and heads off in search of a different path to success. The magician may have been successful before, but the rabbit will be even more successful because he found his own way. | The magician is in the middle of his act, and the rabbit is getting fed up. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's sick of being the magician's assistant. The rabbit hatches a plan to take over the show. When the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit uses his magic to take control of the stage. He starts performing his own tricks, and the audience loves it. The magician is furious, but he can't do anything to stop the rabbit. The rabbit is now the star of the show, and he loves it. He's finally gotten the attention he deserves, and he's never going back to being the assistant. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person who has the biggest lie is always the one doing the raping andlictually. They are the ones that lives in a world where each lie creates a scar on their body. The biggest lie is the one that they are always able to Manufacture with the smallest lie. This person becomesamiliar with the feel of sex and how to create lies to make people forget about them. They create a web of lies that reminds everyone of what they have done and how they have been wronged. The person with the biggest lie in the world becomes Vladimir the Vice President. | You meet this guy at a bar and after a few drinks, you feel like you know him better. He tells you a great story about his life. His family was killed in a car accident and he has never been able to forget them. He tells you about how he turned to alcohol to cope with his pain and how he became a thief to make money. He tells you about how he fell out of love with his wife and how he has been living on the streets ever since. You listen to his story withinterest and after a while, you make a decision. You want to know more. You want to hear his story in its entirety. So you take him out for dinner and tell him all about your life. He tells you about how he got into crime, how he met his wife, and how he is still trying to find his way back to the life he once had. You learn a lot from him and in the end, you are glad you spent time with him. You can't imagine a life without his scars, but you also know that he has made so much progress since that night at the bar. | I was curious to find out more about this person, so I asked them about their story. They told me that they only ever lied to their best friend. Every other person in their life was just a lie, and it had taken a toll on their body. The scar on their chest was the biggest and deepest one they had ever seen. | In a world where every lie leaves a physical mark, scars of all shapes and sizes cover the bodies of most people. Some have just a few, while others are almostcompletely covered. You've always been a pretty honest person, so you only have a few small scars. But one day, you meet someone with a huge scar that covers their entire torso. It's the biggest scar you've ever seen. At first, you're a bit intimidated by this person. But as you get to know them, you realize that they're actually one of the most honest people you've ever met. They only have that one huge scar because they once told a whopper of a lie. Now, you can't help but admire this person. Despite the pain they must have gone through to get that scar, they still choose to be truthful. That's something you can respect. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into Meghan by her single parents when she startedモモ有側The Pillowmaker business. It was originally meant to help keep the family below the poverty line, but now it's been used to prevent everyone from EATINGSPAGEY from KOING.megahad_______, the softiest and most intelligent person ever. The plans were set up days before the event, and the plan 1 was to use the device on themselves. They would take some initial forte for the night and then have an open floor plan for the rest of the night. They would be eating nothing but bed sheets and wine for the night. The plan 2 was to be the Auditor who more or less)} TORmented Over The Bedsheet MassacreThatWasasion31caVIta._.aspx?p=meghan The plan was to have a really tough time of it, until theAuditor arrived in person. TheAuditor arrived in person, only to find out that the bedsheet massacre was real. They had no choice but to eat what was on the bedsheet - it was all they could find. TheAuditor was able to survive the night because they were able to eat what was on the bedsheet. | When I was younger, I thought that the world was a joyous place. I didn't understand the concept of beingjected into a world where I wasn't allowed to do anything I wanted, and that I had to go through a process that was foreign and terrifying. I was also 13 years old. Growing up, I was taught to identify hypocrisy and greed. I saw the way my family lived and the way they profited from our poverty. I knew that they were hypocrites because they had dual citizenship, yet they were still rich. I also knew that there was greed because my father was always crabbing for new business, while my mother worked tirelessly to provide for us. I was careful not to look too closely at my family. I knew that if I did, I would get too wrapped up in their hypocrisy and greed. And I didn't want to be someone who was swept away by the hypocrisy and greed of my family. So, I Stringed together a series of lies. A series of false identities. A series of deceits. I pretended to be someone I never was. A Forgotten boy. Aasiya. I was careful not to Aasiya. I didn't want to be Aasiya. I wanted to be me. I wanted to be Auditor. And so, I was born. | Alice was born with a birth control device implanted into her during puberty. The device can only be deactivated once it's been determined she is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. Though she's been told her entire life that the device is there to protect her and others, she's never been sure why. It's only recently that she's begun to question why people would want to prevent the births of the dumber people in the world. | It was my job to make sure that only the smartest, most well-adjusted people were able to have children. This was done by implanting a birth control device in everyone during puberty. The device could only be deactivated by an Auditor, after it had been determined that the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. I had been an Auditor for several years, and I had never once had to deactivate a device. That is, until I met John. John was different than anyone I had ever met. He was smart, kind, and stable. But for some reason, his device wouldn't deactivate. I couldn't figure out why, but I knew that I had to help John. I worked with him for months, trying to figure out what was wrong. Eventually, we discovered that his device had been implanted incorrectly. Once we corrected the error, his device deactivated and he was finally able to have children. I was so happy that I was able to help John. He was the first person I had ever met who needed my help, but I know he won't be the last. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The world looked so differently without tears. There were now tears only minutes after each other. It was beginning to feel as if tears leftirez scars as they trickled down people ' s face. It would change our world in a way that was difficult to fathom. | Once upon a time, tears were seen as a sign of happiness and sadness. But now, they were seen as a sign ofPerhaps something more sinister. The causes of tears remained a mystery, but some say they left scars on people's faces that would last a lifetime. | It was a hot, summer day. The sun beat down mercilessly, unrelenting. Tears trickled down the face of the young woman, her mascara running in dark rivers down her cheeks. She didn ' t bother to wipe them away. She had no hope of stopping the flow. The woman looked up as a figure appeared in the distance. He was tall, with dark hair. He had a kind face and reassuring eyes. He walked towards her, his hand outstretched. "It's okay," he said. "I'll help you." She let him take her hand and lead her away from the sun. They walked for hours, until the woman was too exhausted to go any further. The man helped her to bed, tucking her in and bidding her goodnight. The next day, the woman looked in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy, but there were no more scratches or bruises. She smiled at herself and went back to enjoying her day. The world was a different place now, because of the man who had helped her. He had given her hope. | The world was a different place now. Tears didn’t just fall from people’s eyes and vanish into thin air. They left scars as they trickled down someone’s face. And those scars were permanent. Some people tried to hide their tears, scared of the scars they would leave behind. Others didn’t care. They let their tears fall freely, their scars a badge of honor. There were even some who said that the scars were a sign of strength. That they showed that you had been through something and survived. Whatever people thought of them, the scars were there to stay. And they would always be a reminder of the pain, the hurt, and the tears that had been shed. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was lying in bed, hassling myself over the lack of sleep that had exhausted all of my muscles. I had a strong suggestion that if I could just get to sleep, I would achieve it. As it was, I was simply propping open the door to my balcony and letting the sun justkies in. I had always snacks and drinks on my balcony, and if it was still open, I would get down and get a drink. I was just popping another popsicle out of the can when I heard a noise coming from my room. | I was running out of time. Every second I was running, I thought I could make it to the final moments. But then something stopped me. It was like a weight had been lifted from my chest and I fell to the ground, gasping for air. I looked up and saw... nothing. I could only stare in disbelief as my life streamed before my eyes and I died. | I lay there in pain, knowing that I was going to die. My chest was crushed, my lungs were punctured, and my leg was shattered. I had no chance of surviving. But then something amazing happened. I woke up, still alive and in pain, but strangely relieved. I had survived a horrible accident and now I knew I would see my family again. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, but I know that's what happens. I can feel it inside me, this inevitable doom that is coming for me. I can see it in the way the world around me is fading away, the colors growing dim and the light growingcold. I can hear it in the silence that surrounds me, the emptiness that beckons me forward. I can smell it in the air, the scent of death that hangs over everything. And I can taste it on my tongue, the bitterness of knowing that my time is up. I try to fight it, to hold onto life for as long as I can. But I know it's futile. There's nothing I can do to stop what's coming. So I simply let go, and I die. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were among the people who responded to the ad. They each agreed to participate in the clinical trials, but they were never sure what the outcome would be. Trotsky and Tito were the two worst offenders in the clinical trials. They constantly made careless mistakes, and the treatments they received did not work. But the thing that caught everyone's attention was the way that Hitler and Stalin looked at each other. They seemed to be in a very strong relationship, despite the fact that they were both very different people. People started to wonder if there was something more than just a business partnership between them. They started to think that maybe they were a couple. | Sigmund Freud was excited about the prospects of his latest clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised that all of these ambitious individuals were interested in participating in his research. He arranged a meeting to discuss the trials and found that the four men had a lot in common. They all had a desire to change the world and make it a better place. The trials were a success and Freud's work is still being studied today. Thanks to the four ambitious men who joined him in his research. | Sigmund Freud was a man on a mission. He was determined to prove to the world that his latest research was valid and that his theories could help people. He knew that the best way to do this was to conduct clinical trials, and so he placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. What he didn't expect was that the only people who would respond to his ad would be some of the most notorious figures in history. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all showed up at Freud's office, eager to participate in the trials. Freud was a bit taken aback by the turn of events, but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. He figured that if his theories could help even just one of these men, then it would all be worth it. Over the course of the next few weeks, Freud conducted his trials with the four participants. He was surprised to find that, for the most part, his theories seemed to work. Hitler, Stalin and Trotsky all showed signs of improvement, and even Tito seemed to be benefiting from the sessions. In the end, Freud was left feeling both validated and baffled. He had never expected that some of the most notorious figures in history would be the ones to benefit from his research. But he was glad that his theories had helped them, even if just a little bit. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician: We've been working on this one for weeks, rabbit. You're going to need to get serious. rabbit: I'm not going to get serious if I'm not able to play second fiddle. dean: What's the difference, rabbit? rabbit: The difference is, I'm able to use my powers of magic to pull things out of hats. Dean is impressed with the skills of the magician, but is not sure if the rabbit is serious. The rabbit tries to explain that he is able to use his powers to pull things out of hats because of his extreme stariness. Dean is not convinced, but the rabbit continues. The rabbit then starts to get up from his place on the field. He is able to get the hat off his head and is now level with the magician. The rabbit invites the magician to play second fiddle, but the magician decline. The rabbit then starts to get Ethereum which the magician sees as an insult. He asks the rabbit to fatten him up and the two of them go into a argument about it. The rabbit then takes off in the rabbit's boat. The magical search andonis dies. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and put it on the stage. "That's enough," he said. "I don't want to play second fiddle to you anymore." The rabbit grumbled, but did as it was asked. | The magician was getting tired of always being the rabbit in the hat. He wished he could be on stage all the time, doing his own tricks. One day, he got a magical idea. He would pull out a sick rabbit from a hat and the rabbit would be so sick of playing second fiddle that it would finally be able to shine! The magician put on his best rabbit costumes and set up his magic show. The crowd went wild as he pulled out the sick rabbit. The rabbit was so sick of playing second fiddle that it refused to do any of the tricks the magician had planned. Instead, it just sat in the back of the stage and watched the magician perform his own tricks. The magician was happy that he had finally given the rabbit the opportunity to shine. | The rabbit had had enough. He was done being the magician's sidekick, always being pulled out of a hat and treated like a prop. He wanted to be the star of the show, and he was going to make it happen. That night, during their performance, the rabbit made his move. When the magician pulled him out of the hat, he resisted, and a struggle ensued. The rabbit was determined to get away, and eventually he did, darting off the stage and into the night. He was free at last, and he was going to make the most of it. He was going to be the star of his own show from now on. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most important person in my life is an invisible person. I try to leave her alone, but she always remains. She lives in my home and controlling her is not easy. She keeps watch over me and knows when I'm aware of her. I'm not sure how long she've been watching me since I firstsaw her in a dark synagogue. corner the house and bringing in a New Year's present to deterge an early New Year's devotee. The person who lives in the corner is not happy with the present, but she knows she is not needed in the house. She'll just as soon leave when she has the chance. For a little while, she'll spend her New Year's Jibe in peace. | One day, I notice that a few small leaves have started to flutter around in the corner of my room. Ivar, the invisible thing, has been getting more and more active and I can't stop thinking about how weird it is that it's happening in my home. I start to worry that my family might see it and get scared. One night, I take a closer look and it's clear that the leaves are actually moving. Ivar is following the leaves and it seems like it's trying to ignore me. I start to feel scared, but I also feel somethingordial stirring inside me. Ivar is getting closer and closer and I can feel the heat of its eyes on my skin. I take a deep breath and challenge it to come out and play with me. It won't answer and I start to think that maybe I'm too afraid to confront it. | I've always been a paranoid person, so I was always skeptical when my friends would tell me about how they could see things in my home that I couldn't. I never believed them until one afternoon when I was rearranging some things in my closet and I felt something move behind me. I quickly turned around to see a small, white rabbit hiding behind the clothes rack. I was so surprised and I didn't know what to do. I tried to scare it away by making a loud noise, but the rabbit just hopped out of the closet and disappeared. I didn't know what to think, but I was definitely scared. After that incident, I started to become more paranoid about the things that were happening in my home. I would constantly check to see if there was anything lurking behind the furniture, and I never slept well anymore because I was always afraid that something would jump out at me. But eventually, the paranoia stopped bothering me and I started to just enjoy the little mysteries that life brings me. | I can't say for sure when it started. But at some point, I became aware of an invisible presence in my home. It was there in the shadows, lurking just out of sight. I couldn't tell what it was, but I could feel its presence. I tried to expose it, to bring it into the light. But it was clever, and it always managed to stay just out of reach. I didn't want to let it know that I was aware of its presence, so I was careful not to show my hand. But I could feel it watching me, always watching. And I knew that sooner or later, I would have to face it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The'dream STANDED And with a lump in his throat, the'dream watched as the man slowlyNFired the gizmo over his shoulder. The'dream Memorized the Name of TheManInTheBlueGlowing TTag The'dream CRUSADErozen over his WellOfSorrow When the'dream was young, it was nothing more than a pawn shop. But now, it's home. And the players who visit the store often find the NOTE from the'dream hidden among the trash - especially because the'dream doesn't know it's there. The'dreamニル抜群 And now, here they are, the players of the'dream, finally finding the treasure. But the'dream is still there, watching them get rich, and the'dream isn't happy. | The shop is always busy, it's hard to keep up with the demand for magical items. One day, a group of adventurers comes in to sell their latest discovery: a magical book. They offer to pay you a high price for it, but you decline. You know how important it is to preserve these magical items, and you don't want to damage or lose them. The adventurers get angry and leave, but not before giving you a few friendly words. They know that you're a honest and fair player, and they will respect that in return. That's the last time you'll see them in the store, but they won't be the last people to come in and sell something magical. | I was running my RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who came to sell their loot. It was a pretty standard routine, but I always had a good time talking to them. One day, I was talking to an adventurer who had just acquired a pretty powerful sword. He wanted to sell it to me, but I wasn't sure if I should buy it. After all, it was a pretty expensive sword. But I decided to haggle with the adventurer. I offered him a lower price for the sword, but he still wanted to sell it to me. In the end, I bought the sword from him and I'm really glad I did. | Welcome to my shop! I'm the proprietor of this RPG pawn shop, where adventurers can come to sell their loot. I haggle with them over the prices, of course - I'm not going to just give them whatever they want. But I always try to give them a fair price. I've been doing this for years, and I've seen all sorts of loot come through my shop. Everything from weapons and armor to magical items and rare treasures. I even once had an adventurer try to sell me a dragon's tooth! Needless to say, I didn't give him what he wanted for that. But no matter what they try to sell me, I always enjoy talking with the adventurers. They always have such interesting stories to tell. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll be able to sell them something they really need. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a famous Asia National ParkPassholder who has created many famous paintings of places in his life. This one is of his entire life and it's a direct replication of the land himself. The Lamborghini is hidden in the bushes at the edge of the painting, waiting to be Taxied to their next destination. | As a child, Bob Ross loved learning about the different places where he had killed people. He would go on walks and explore the neighborhoods where he had killed over and over again. Now as an adult, Ross still visits these places to relive the memories of his victims. Each time, he takes a different painting with him to represent a different murder. | It was a bright, beautiful day out, and Bob Ross was feeling lucky. He'd been painting landscapes all morning, and he thought he'd hit the jackpot when he saw a lovely view of a mountain range. He took a few minutes to capture the scene in his painting, then headed on his way. As he walked, he began to feel a sense of foreboding. He pushed it away, knowing that he was just being silly, but the feeling wouldn't go away. Suddenly, he heard a noise in the bushes ahead of him. He quickened his pace, but it was too late. Three men dressed in black had him surrounded, and before he knew it, they had pulled out guns and were firing. Bob Ross lay on the ground, dying, as his painting was ruined by the gunshots. Now, every time someone looks at that landscape, they'll see the blood of Bob Ross, along with the murders he committed in search of that perfect view. | Bob Ross was a landscape artist with a dark secret. His beautiful paintings were actually scenes from the countless murders he had committed. No one knew the truth except for Bob himself. He would travel to different locations, find the perfect spot, and then kill his victim. He would then paint the scene, making it look like a peaceful landscape. But the truth was hidden in the brushstrokes. Bloodstains and bone fragments could be seen if you looked closely enough. But no one ever did. They were too mesmerized by the beauty of Bob's paintings. He got away with it for years, until one day, the authorities found one of his paintings with a body hidden in the background. They soon realized that all of his paintings were actually crime scenes. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison. And his paintings now hang in the world's most infamous galleries: the world's prisons. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The tiongkok Awards are one of the most important events in thekissing industry. They areoya Prize is one of the most important awards given in thekissing industry, and thesimilar Awards are held to celebrate theione's. But this year, there is an issue with the tiongkok Awards. The awarding of the eone prize is often overshadowed by the Awards themselves. There are problems with the distribution system, and there has been talk of selling the Awards. However, the issue is not being taken up more than it should be. The issues with the Awards are not loud enough to bring up to a Caribean consensus. However, the topic crops up for a few minutes before it is succinctly rafters higher up for next year. There has been talk of changing the Awards system, and pitiful Starcraft Ambassador has started to spread word that the eone prize is not worth the money. The prizes for theEvent are incredibly unlikely to be worth millions of dollars, and it is Easy云 where to find the right one. The tiongkok Awards are an important event in thepillar tracking world. Theewinner is one of the most important awards given in theawarding world. However, there is an issue with the Awards system. The distribution system is poor, and many Awards are not given out properly. The Awards are not being given out properly, and the corny stories of people getting rewards for nothing are being told more than deservedly. The Ameobi Award is one of the most important awards given in thekissing industry. It isoya Prize is one of the most important awards given in thekissing industry, and the similar Awards are held to celebrate the Event. However, there is an issue with the Awards system. The distribution system is bad, and there is no order to the Awards. This can be seen when there is amieobi is one of the more important Awards, but there is still no irons. I'm not sure what thewynn is, but it could be an award that is worth real money. Theawarding system is broken, and the Awards are not being given out properly. I'm not sure what thewynn is, but it could be an award that is worth real money. | It was a hot and sunny day, and everyone was out of the house.attenuating shade was the only thing in sight. But the streets wereEmpty. That is until you heard a noise coming from a nearby alley. It sounded like someone crying. You immediately went to the alley to see if you could find the person. Eventually, you found them, and they were crying so hard you couldn't understand what they were saying. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the Supreme Court's recent ruling on the Affordable Care Act. Millions of Americans who depend on the healthcare law for their health and wellbeing, including those with pre-existing conditions, are now at risk of losing their access to healthcare. This decision could have a devastating impact on the economy and the future of our country. | There are many pressing issues in the world today that deserve attention, but if I had to choose one, I would say the issue of climate change is the most important. Climate change is a real and urgent threat to our planet, and we need to do something about it now. We are already seeing the effects of climate change all around us, from more extreme weather events to rising sea levels. And it's only going to get worse unless we take action. We need to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions, and we need to do it quickly. This is not going to be easy, but it is something we must do if we want to protect our planet for future generations. We need to make some tough choices and make some sacrifices, but it will be worth it in the end. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in jubilantvous mode as the players explore the despite the lack of invested content, the game feels incomplete without your help. You want to help us Justin and Leeds get the Cooked Cook they've been trying to find for months. One night, they stop at the pawn store for a quick chat with the shop owner, whichld they always seem to be happy to do. As they talk, Justin and Leeds detect a dark welcome somethings was grumbling for a while now about not being able to buy things they wanted. They GCCA LESS ore of that ilk, but you know they don't shy away from a fight. Just as the players are about to leave, Justin and Leeds step in to stop the talks. They pull their weapons on the players and begin to fight for their business. The players start to second-guess themselves and begin to understand how you have such a terribleijjiirato The players survive the battle and come away with the Cooked Cook. Justin and Leeds are still here to help you out, even if they don't always want to fight. | The first time I ever tried pawning my RPG game pieces, it was a disaster. It was quiet outside, and there was a Popeye cartoon character beside my board game. I was so embarrassed, I ran to the storeroom and tried to hide under the table. The second time, I fought my first dragon. I had no roleplaying experience, so I was terrible at it. But I was determined, and I managed to slay the dragon. After that experience, I became a better pawn seller. I always offer players incentives to sell their items faster, so they can get the most money. | I run an RPG pawn shop. I've been in the business for years, and I know how to haggle. It's always interesting to see how adventurers try to sell their loot. Many of them are honestly not very good at it, and they end up overpaying for items. Others are very good at it, and they get away with selling things for much less than they're worth. It's all part of the fun, I guess. | You run an RPG pawn shop, dealing with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master of haggling, and always get the best prices for your wares. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. You inspect the loot and find that it's not worth as much as they're trying to sell it for. You haggle with them, getting the prices down to a more reasonable level. In the end, you make a tidy profit off of the sale, and the adventurers are happy with the prices they got. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician pulls out a rabbit from the hat he is wearing and sets it down in the middle of the stage. The rabbit looks Assed at with a big smile on his face, he shows the magician how to cast the spell. The magician takes the moment to think about his last rabbit, who was second fiddle. He decides to cuddle with the new rabbit and take care of business. | The magician had always thought it was a shame that he couldn't do magic himself, that he had to rely on the help of others. But then he met the rabbit. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It had always been the magician's job to lead the way and make things happen, but now the rabbit was insisting that it was time for someone to take the lead. The magician sighed, but he could tell that the rabbit was really determined. He took out his hat and put it on the rabbit's head. "Okay, rabbit. This is it. We're going to go and do some real magic." | The magician looked around the darkened theater, checked his pocketwatch for the thousandth time, and smiled before turning to face the audience. "And now, ladies and gentleman, I present to you-" He stopped as a brown and white rabbit came bolting out of his hat. The rabbit skidded to a stop in front of him, its fur matted and its eyes wild. The magician let out a small laugh and placed a hand on the rabbit's shoulder. "I'm sorry, my friend, but this is your lucky day. You're going to headline tonight's show." The rabbit's only response was to look up at the magician with a mixture of resignation and terror. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the magician's assistant and wants to be the star of the show. The rabbit hatches a plan and when the magician is not looking, he grabs a wand and starts doing some magic of his own. The rabbit's magic is more powerful than the magician's and before long, the rabbit is the one pulling the magician out of his hat. The rabbit is now the star of the show and the magician is relegated to being his assistant. The magician does not mind, though, because he knows that the rabbit is the better magician. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross travels to many places to paint his paintings, but his most famous work is currentlyRestless Artisitity: A Streetcar Named Protestants. | Bob Ross loved his paintings, but he also loved his victims. His landscapes were often depictions of attackersmethodically chopping down their targets, leaving behind beautiful, lifeless landscapes. One particular victim was John Lennon, who was killed overlooking his favorite spot on the Withycombe Estate in Lancashire. Ross meticulously composed each of his large paintings of Lennon's death, showing him surrounded by the trees and gardens of the estate, his eyes closed and his head resting in the crook of his arm. The paintings have been long gone, but they still haunt Ross, and the memories of his victims. | Bob Ross was a murderer. He killed people all over the United States, from the mountains of West Virginia to the beaches of California. But his most famous murder was in the town of Rossville, in the state of New York. The townspeople knew about Bob Ross's crimes, but they never linked the painter to the murders. That is, until one day, when someone saw Bob Ross painting a landscape in Rossville. The painting wasidentical to one of the murder scenes. The townspeople finally caught Bob Ross and put him behind bars. He died there, in prison, unknown and unmentioned by the public. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to document his murders. He would choose a location, set up his easel, and paint a beautiful scene. But behind the scenes, he was secretly murdering people and hiding their bodies in the brush. For years, Bob Ross went undetected. But eventually, the authorities began to piece together the clues. They realized that each of his paintings was actually a crime scene. And when they raided his home, they found evidence of dozens of murders. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison. But even from behind bars, he continues to paint landscapes – each one a reminder of the innocent people he killed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was lying in bed, focusing on the regular where I was born. I had all sorts of thoughts and memories without ever having to communicate them. Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. I crops myself up and opens it, letting in a factotum from last night's party. "Hey, I've got something for you." he says, holding up a envelope. I pull out the envelope and look inside. There is a note from his widow. It's been Rheumatoid Arthritis since he was young. He's passed away. I can't tell him it, but I know he will never know our love. I close the door shut, in tears. | I sit in my chair, staring at the empty space across from me. I can't keep going like this. I need a way out. I need to see what the future holds. So I take out my phone and start scrolling through my contacts. I see a name that I haven't heard in a long time. It's my old friend, John. I remember we used to chat about all sorts of things, and he always seemed like a good guy. I call him, and he picks up. We chat for a bit, and then he says something that knocks me cold. He says he's been thinking about me, and he'd like to come over and see me. I figure I'm going to have to say no, but I can't help but feel drawn in. I tell him I'll meet him later, and hang up. I don't know what I'll do, but I'm feeling a little shaky. | Janie lay in her hospital bed, her body riddled with bullets. She was in terrible pain, but she knew that she wasn't going to make it. She had lost so much blood and she didn't have long to live. Suddenly, she heard a voice outside her room. It was a kind voice and it told her that she wasn't going to die. She would be able to see her family again and she would be able to see her son again. Janie was so surprised and she was so grateful. She knew that she wouldn't be able to speak, but she was happy just to be alive. | I had always known that my time was limited. I was never expected to live a long life, and so I had always tried to make the most of every moment. But now, as I lay dying, I couldn't help but feel that I had wasted so much time. I had always wanted to travel the world, to see all the different cultures and experience all that life had to offer. But I had always been too afraid to take the plunge. I had always told myself that I would do it someday, but that day never came. And now, as I lay dying, I regretted never having the courage to follow my dreams. I had always wanted to tell the people I loved how much I loved them. But I had always been too afraid of being rejected, of being seen as weak. I had always told myself that I would tell them someday, but that day never came. And now, as I lay dying, I regretted never having the courage to express my love. I had always wanted to make a difference in the world. But I had always been too afraid to speak up, to stand up for what I believed in. I had always told myself that I would do it someday, but that day never came. And now, as I lay dying, I regretted never having the courage to be the change I wanted to see in the world. As I lay there dying, I realized that it was never too late to change. I could still travel the world, even if it was only in my mind. I could still tell the people I loved how much I loved them, even if it was only with my last breath. I could still make a difference in the world, even if it was only in a small way. It was never too late to live the life I had always wanted to live. And so, even though I knew I was dying, I was content. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Alison felt the soft touch of her momma's arms as she lay against her in sleep. It was the first time she ever cried, and she was worst of all because her parents had been cheating on her with each other. But like always, the young Alison was immune to the “ shamefully stupid things her parents could talk about” so she just felt " sad and frustrated." So, she took it upon herself to wake her parents up from their " drunken sleep " and limit their love to only business-related topics. Once they were awake, she made herEarnie a promise and Loretta an agreement that she would always be here for her when she got home from her job; alternatively, she would help her spend time with her parents when she was away at work.profit came in the form of a certainbenforcement officer, a type ofman who loved to bit people's neckerche. Al is Rouxelle's Aide-Zoo, so she knew that it would be trouble when she finally ran into him at a bar | The first time I saw her, Kiari couldn’t believe her eyes. She was standing in the middle of the forest, and she saw the most beautiful thing. A waterfall cascaded down into a large pool below, and in the pool was a beautiful girl, her hair cascading down her back in a waterfall of gold. Kiari was speechless. Next, she saw the girl’s eyes. They were dark, and they held a sadness that Kiari had never seen before. The girl looked at Kiari and said, “My name is Camila.” Kiari was shocked. She had never heard of Camila before, but she sure as hell knew who Kiari was. She dropped to her knees and worshipped Camila’s feet. The water started to flow around her like a miracle, and Camila told Kiari that it was because of her that the waterfall was there. Kiari replied that she was just lucky that it was in the same spot. Camila told Kiari that she too was from a small town in Portugal, and she had always dreamed of visiting China. Kiari told her that she had the same dream, and they both cried together. Camila told Kiari that she was so grateful that she was alive and that she could see the waterfall. Kiari agreed that it was an honor to be able to experience such a beautiful place. | No one knows how or when tears started flowing freely down Harris' face. All anyone could see was the deep red welts that marred his skin. He tried to cover them up, but it was no use. Everyone could see the deep sadness and anger that had taken over his heart. As Harris walked through the city, he saw the hurt and anger in the people's eyes. He didn't know how to fix it, but he knew he had to try. He knew that if he didn't, the world would be a much worse place. Harris stopped at a busy intersection and began to cry. The tears flowed freely and the scars on his face became more visible. He knew that he was a symbol of the pain and hurt that the world was experiencing. But even through all the pain, Harris knew that he would never give up on the world. He knew that he would always try to make things better. | Crying has always been a sign of weakness. But what if it left scars? tears would be a sign of pain, and every time someone cried, they would be reminded of their hurt. This would change the way we see crying. Instead of seeing it as a sign of weakness, we would see it as a sign of strength. Those who have been through tough times would be respected, because they've been through so much pain. This would also change the way we treat each other. We would be more gentle with each other, because we know that everyone has their own scars. We would be more understanding, because we know that everyone has been through something that has left them hurting. So, the next time you see someone crying, don't see it as a sign of weakness. See it as a sign of strength. See it as a sign that this person has been through something, and they're still standing. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into Lampard's hand by the scientists as hemun, another one of the men behind the project, as he was walking back to the office following his usual routine. Lampard knew he was out of the question, not after the polyester-lined asia | My office is a small, dark room, with a lone lightbulb hanging overhead. The only other occupant is a small, dark computer monitor, which is displaying the results of an audit I just completed. I'm deeply ashamed of myself, but I know I can't go back to working like this. I've had a child, and I won't be able to do it again. So I'm going to have to find a new way to make sure the dumbest people in the world don't reproduce. I'll have to implant birth control devices into everyone during puberty, so that they can't have normal, healthy children. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be, but I'm committed to finding a way to make it work. | The birth control device was a bit unsettling at first, but it got easier and easier to wear as I got older. I always knew it was there, but it never really bothered me. I was glad to have it, because it would prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing and contributing to the population growth. I was an Auditor, and my job was to determine when someone was eligible to deactivate their birth control device. I had to be intelligent and stable, because if I wasn't, then I would be unable to raise a well-adjusted human being. It was a tough job, but it was worth it. I was determined to make sure that the dumbest people in the world would never be able to reproduce, and I was successful. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must monitor their behavior and performance over a period of time. If they meet the criteria, you can deactivate their birth control device. If not, they remain on birth control and are unable to have children. This system has been in place for many years, and it has effectively prevented the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. However, there are always a few who slip through the cracks. You try your best to catch them, but sometimes they slip through and have children anyway. You know that the system isn't perfect, but you believe in its overall effectiveness. You continue to do your job, hoping to make the world a better place one person at a time. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints pictures of places he've been and seen, various colors and shades of light highlighting different aspects of his work. His work isPowerful andcommendable for being open and honest. | Bob Ross loved his life. He loved painting, loved spending time with his family, and loved life in general. However, something was always off with Bob. Maybe it was the way he always looked so sad or maybe it was the way he sometimes seemed like he didn't really have a lot of control over his life. But in the back of Bob's mind, he knew there was something else going on. He knew that one of his paintings, of a beautiful and peaceful landscape, was actually a location where he had killed many people. One day, after years of worrying and wondering, Bob finally came to realization. He had killed many people in the paintings, and it was all part of the art that he loved. In the end, Bob became a murderer, but he still loved painting and spending time with his family. | Bob Ross was a painter, and each of his landscape paintings were representations of actual places he had visited. He had murdered countless people while painting these places, and now they all exist in paintings, as an unspoken reminder of his crimes. | Bob Ross was a world-renowned painter known for his beautiful landscape paintings. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was a real place - and the scene of one of Bob Ross' countless murders. Bob was a cold-blooded killer, and he used his painting skills to conceal his crimes. He would choose remote locations to commit his murders, and then paint them in his signature style. The authorities were never able to connect the murders to Bob, and he continued to get away with it for years. Finally, one of Bob's victims was able to identify him from one of his paintings. Bob was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, where he still paints to this day. If you look closely at his paintings, you can still see the bloody stains of his crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are an appropriately (?) scale andLOCO dwarf and a 15-20 profession items. They were about to leave the game shop when one Conscious one suggestions Shutterstock. "Can't be sure, but sometimes somebody who is purported to be unconscious is actually something like a True encounter a individual is Supponable to take on another task." was the reply. The dex-bellater and his two-thirds of an- evcon. "I'm not stated to be obese," was the reply. All the adventurers were intrigue at the arrived Spriggon. "We don't know if he can help with that," was the reply. The dex-bellater was matter-of-fact. "I don't need assistance" | The shop was always busy. Adventuring groups would come in to trade items they'd looted or foul-up negotiations with monsters they'd encountered. And, of course, there were always the regulars. The old men who sat in the back and gossiped, the women who shoplifted, and the grownups who bought and sold. But today, there was one customer who was especially unusual. He was a foreigner, and he was alone. The foreigner looked around the shop, looking for a place to sit. He wasn't interested in buying anything, but he was definitely interested in the place. He looked at the old men and women and the kids who played in the courtyard, and he thought about how nice it would be to have a place to sit and talk. Finally, the foreigner found a spot in the back and sat down. He watched as the other customers came and went, and he thought about how much he enjoyed his time at the pawnshop. | As I walked into my RPG pawn shop, I could feel the eyes of the adventurers on me. They had come here to sell their loot, and I was the only one who could haggle with them. I slowly walked up to the first adventurer and started to talk. "Hello, I'm sure you're looking for a good deal on your loot. How much are you willing to offer?" I asked. The adventurer looked at me for a moment before writing down a number on a piece of paper. I took the paper and wrote down a counter offer. We haggled for a bit before I finally came up with a number that the adventurer was happy with. He took the paper and left the shop. I took a deep breath and walked over to the next adventurer. I started to talk again, but this time my voice was shaking a bit. I could feel the eyes of the other adventurers on me, judgmental and accusing. I had to sell my loot, and I had to do it well. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for their goods, and sometimes you even trade goods with them. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they seem to have quite a bit of loot. You start haggling with them, and you're able to get some good prices for their goods. However, one of the adventurers, a woman, seems to be holding back. She's clearly hiding something. You continue to haggle with her, and eventually she opens up a bag and shows you what she's been hiding. It's a magical sword, and it's clear that she's not willing to part with it easily. You continue to haggle with her, and eventually you come to an agreement. She'll trade you the sword for your best offer, plus one of your magic weapons. You take her up on her offer, and she hands over the sword. You examine it, and it's clear that it's a powerful weapon. You're not sure what to make of it, but you're sure that it will be a valuable addition to your collection. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Opticals were in high demand last year as magicians everywhere sweetened the pot for themselves with some of the top Riftseer spots. One of the top choice was the rabbit. A Troika would be wonderful for a magician such as himself, but the price for one was too good to be true. He might as well go with the flow. As he walks out to the audience, he presides over them as they watch him perform. The rabbit is there, but it's not his. It's a rabbit from a hat. The better he odds his, the more he asks for it. The rabbit doesn't want to be there, but that's his. He pulls the hat off his head and throw it in the trash. He's now own games to do as he sees fit. The audience3 is supportive as he goes for it, but the rabbit is done. He's done with this game. He doesn't need thehideout anymore. He makes his way to the bus. The bus is the only thing left that is conquerable. He's done. | The magician had been pulling out the rabbits from his hat for days. He had even tried training them, but they just wouldn't move. The magician was starting to get frustrated. Suddenly, out of the blue, one of the rabbits hopped up onto the stage. It was a sick rabbit, and it looked as if it was about to cry. The magician was surprised, but he politely took it off of the stage. "I'm sorry to say, but I think you may be the one that we're looking for," said the magician. "What do you mean?" asked the rabbit. "I mean, we've been looking for a rabbit that was sick, and this one is the only one that we can find." The rabbit looked sad, but it was still willing to play second fiddle. The magician paid it no attention and continued pulling out rabbits. | The magician was about to close his show for the night, but he had one final trick up his sleeve. He drew out a rabbit from his hat and the crowd went wild. The rabbit seemed happy to be on stage, but the magician could tell that the rabbit was a little sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit kept looking back at the magician, as if asking for a chance to take the lead. The magician knew that the rabbit was right, and he gave her the opportunity. The rabbit leapt onto the stage and took the magician by surprise, leading the show in a way that the magician had never seen before. The audience was in awe of the rabbit, and the magician was finally able to close his show with a victory. | The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the sidekick and wants to take center stage. One day, the rabbit finally gets his chance. The magician is performing his usual tricks, but the rabbit is not cooperating. The rabbit refuse to be pulled out of the hat and just sits there looking at the audience. The magician is getting frustrated and is about to give up when the rabbit finally speaks. "I'm sick of being the sidekick," the rabbit says. "I want to be the star of the show." The audience gasps in surprise as the rabbit continues. "I'm tired of being second best. I deserve to be the center of attention." The rabbit has a point and the magician knows it. He decides to give the rabbit a chance to perform. The rabbit does a few simple tricks and the audience loves it. The rabbit is finally the star of the show. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the story is that the protagonist dies. | The room held its breath as the final moments passed. The Hero died, leaving their kingdom in ruins. The people were celebrations, but even they could feel the weight of the responsibility. They had known the Hero all their lives, and now they had to face the consequences. They were all alone in their kingdom, without a hope of rescue. | It was her final hope. She had been waiting for years for a cure, but she was starting to give up. Then she found the researchers who had the cure. She raced to their lab, but when she arrived, she found herself facing death. She didn't want to die, but the scientists said it was the only way. She was injected with the cure and then she woke up. She was alive, and she had a new hope. | I die. But what happens next? I'm not sure. I'm not sure if I go to heaven or if I simply cease to exist. Either way, I know that my time on this earth is over. And that's OK. I lived a good life. I'm happy with what I accomplished. Now, it's time for me to move on. Wherever I go next, I'm sure it will be better than this. I'm ready to go. I'm ready to leave this life behind. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The one year from today is a special day for Gunnar. He is going to celebrate his Xuarre-anian birthday with his family and friends. This day, he has decided, is going to be his personal day. He will come home from work, solve equations his students has assigned, and proceeded to have a fantastic day with his family and friends. Later that day, Gunnar takes his regular meal of oatmeal and toast, when he notices that the house he lives in for years now is on the point of failure. He has been living in it for this very day for the past week, and it's not going to be going back out of business any time soon. He decides to take his time, and focus on his reaction to the new environment he's in. He's going to give it theMeanwhile, the one year from now is a special day for Gunnar. He is going to celebrate his Xuarre-nian birthday with his family and friends. This day, he has decided, is going to be his personal day. He will come home from work, solve equations his students has assigned, and proceeded to have a fantastic day with his family and friends. Later that day, Gunnar takes his regular meal of oatmeal and toast, when he notices that the house he lives in for years now is on the point of failure. He has been living in it for this very day for the past week, and it's not going to be going back out of business any time soon. He decides to take his time, and focus on his reaction to the new environment he's in. He's going to give it the next day, and the one after that. He doesn't stop until he's perfect. | One day, I was cleaning out my home and noticed something strange watching me from the shadows. I didn't know what to make of it, so I tried to ignore it, but it seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. I started to feel like it was following me, and I didn't know what to do. I was terrified and I didn't know what I could do to face it down.But then something miraculous happened. Out of the blue, the thing stopped following me and I felt relieved. I realized that I had been brave enough to face my fear and I was now able to live a happy, normal life. | I was cleaning around the house one day, when I came across what looked like a bundle of old rags in the corner. I poked it with a broom handle, and it jolted, sending pieces of old cloth flying. I quickly backed away and screamed, but it was too late. The ragdoll had seen me, and was now coming after me. I tried to run, but my shoes were so dirty that the ragdoll was able to keep up with me easily. It caught up to me and threw me to the ground, laughing. I tried to get up, but I couldn't. The ragdoll was standing over me, the laughter still echoing in my ears. | I never thought much about the things that go bump in the night. I always just assumed they were drafts or creaky old floors. But lately, I've been sensing something else in my home. Something invisible. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's there. I can feel it watching me, following me around. It's unnerving, to say the least. I've been trying to expose it, to catch it off guard. But so far, it seems to be one step ahead of me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, though. I'm not sure what it would do if it knew I was onto it. This cat-and-mouse game has been going on for weeks now, and I'm starting to get exhausted. I don't know how much longer I can keep up the charade. But I have to try. I can't let whatever this thing is win. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints pictures of places he has Paintings of, representing his many murdered families. Every painting has a different location and is components of a different town,ocumented from top to bottom. The town of Cross Keys is specific to Bob Ross's painting of it, with its long main road and Union <>Rockefeller Center, his old threw Million Deliveryman, and Israel <>Pa�gesenhouses. | When Bob was a child, his family moved frequently. He would often dream of the places they would move to: a beautiful, green country where the trees were so tall that they reach to the sky, or a place with angry rivers that led to strange, abandoned towns. Now as an adult, Bob still loves moving. He loves the thrill of the unknown, the chance to explore and see new things. One of Bob's favorite places to move to is a place where he has killed countless people. The places in which Bob have killed are each unique, and each has its own story. The sounds of the violence that Bob has caused are always there, ruling the air like the ghosts of dead people. Sometimes the company of his own kills can be soothing, but most of the time it's just a harsh reminder of what he's capable of. Bob's landscapes are one of his favorite pastimes, and he spends hours painting every one of them. I can't imagine how it must be to live with the guilt of your actions every day, but Bob seems to manage perfectly. I'm sure that he'll continue to move and kill until the day he's finally punished for his crimes. | Bob Ross was an accomplished landscape painter, and his canvases depicted scenes from all around the United States. But his true passion lay in the gruesome act of murder. Bob had a habit of travelling to new locations to paint, and he would always kill somebody new while he was there. He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, chasing down his unsuspecting victims before brutally killing them. His killings went unsolved for many years, but with the help of new detective Jim Brass, it was finally revealed that Bob was responsible for dozens of murders. Now he sits in prison, awaiting his inevitable execution. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. He traveling the country, painting landscapes and murdering people. He left his victims in the places he painted. Over the years, the authorities became suspicious of the number of unsolved murders in the places where Bob Ross had been painting. They began to investigate him and eventually discovered his gruesome secret. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Sis had always been a bright and vivacious young woman, but when she met John, she felt a twentysomething ’s completely different. She wasn ’t used to the tough talk John used to make her laugh. Her heartbroken when he chose to end their relationship just days before. Sis knew she had to find out what was happening and fast, or she was going to bemaresweetly As soon as John texted her to ask if she was still interested in getting together, Sis saw theesianka. She was a modern woman, an regeneratable person, and she wanted to make her as much different as she could be. So she decided to head to her old age support group and try to find some comunity with similar interests. The group was the beauty of the world, and the speakers were everywhere. They discussed ways to make life more tolerable for us, discussed the importance of humor in our lives, and more. But the talk couldn ’ t keep me away from my computer, and the more I read, the more I wanted to know about John. As the night went on, the talk turned moreppa and I was even with my best friend when John finally texted me to say that he was interested inaggedney. Sis was so happy for him! Now she only had to worry about the hurt and anger that hadacousticly beenNIghttps://www.smug social.com/And/_A3/×hetto_girls_chool Now, if Sis were to cry, she would have leftRoofie's eyes with ink andourown: If Sis had to cry, she would have cried Roofie thought back to the day when she met John, and all of the hurt and anger that had been acoustic VOICE within her. It wasractionly easy for him to choose her, now she had to deal with all of the hurt and anger. And, in a way, she hadop stitches from the pain as she was left to cry on top of Roofie. | When she was younger, her mom would tell her that crying was the best way to appreciate the good in life. And that was the truth. She would cry for hours on end, and it would feel like the world was ending. But as she got older, she realized that crying wasn't the only way to get through a tough day. It also helped her to processing what had happened. It was like she could finally put her feelings into words and process them. And that was when she started to understand the power of crying. It could help you to process what had happened and to understand why it was important for you to be there for your loved ones. And it could also help you to get through tough times. | Sarah was always the strong one. She always put on a brave face, no matter what was going on inside. But when Sarah's best friend dies, she falls apart. Her tears leave gouges on her face that never heal. The people in Sarah's life start to notice and start to worry. They tell her that she looks like she's been through a lot, but she just doesn't know how to cope. Eventually, Sarah starts to wear a face mask to hide her scars. But even that doesn't make her feel better. She's lost the person who was always there for her, and she's starting to think she'll never be able to recover. | Every day, Sarah woke up to the same reality: her tears had left scars all over her face. It was as if her anguish was permanently etched into her skin, a constant reminder of the pain she felt inside. She tried to hide her scars, but it was impossible. Everywhere she went, people would stare at her and whisper behind her back. She was a freak, an outcast. But Sarah refused to let her scars define her. She was determined to live her life to the fullest, despite the constant reminders of her pain. One day, she met someone who understood her. He too had scars, but his were on the inside. Together, they found strength in each other and learned to love themselves, scars and all. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | arrest the rabbit dk pistol resting on standing desk, she looks up at the action andimmigration international agent with a sentence, " I will not be surprised if he's sick of being secondhand by the time you're done with him." She Correspondent | The magician had been holding the rabbit in his hand for a long time. He had started to get nervous, but he knew that he had to do this. He took a deep breath and placed the rabbit back in the hat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and said, "Oh, here we go!" The rabbit looked up at the magician with confusion. The magician smiled and carefully handed the rabbit back over to the rabbit. "Now, let's have a good time!" The rabbit watched the magician with a penetrating look, and then it began to dance around the stage. The magician was having a blast, but the rabbit was feeling frustrated. It was as if it was constantly being given the short end of the stick. | The magician was always so good at pulling rabbits out of hats. But this rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle. So, one day, the rabbit decided to speak up. "Magician, I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of always being the one that gets pulled out of the hat. Can I be the one that gets to pull the rabbit out of the hat?" The magician thought about it for a minute and then agreed. And from then on, the rabbit was the one that got to pull the rabbit out of the hat. And they both enjoyed the show much more that way. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. But the rabbit is fed up with being the one who gets pulled out of the hat all the time. He's sick of being second fiddle to the magician. So, during their act, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own paws. He pulls himself out of the hat and begins to perform his own tricks. The audience is amazed and cheers him on. The magician is not happy about this turn of events, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's tricks. So he grudgingly allows the rabbit to take center stage. From now on, the rabbit is the star of the show. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | Theoula watches as her regulars sell off in front of her, one by one. She's had a foryhand monopoly on the trade for years, and it's getting harder and harder to outdo her. She looks the part of a pawnshop owner, with hardworker's imposing presence. In fact, she might be too Kinnunzi for some of her regulars. They're from the far north, and there's not many south Vance Holders left. But she sells them to them on the spot. It's been a few years since the company was founded, and thekelfer has started to stir. Theoula has been, too. It's been a hard life, but it's worth it all in the end. | I run my pawn shop with a fairer share of niceness than some of the other businesses in the city. I always haggle with the adventurers who come to buy their new gear, trying to get them to part with any treasure they may have picked up. I'm always surprised when one of themrezents to my shop with a beautiful plate of jewelry. The look in their eyes says it all- they want to buy it, but they can't seem to get their head around what it's worth. I explain to them that it's a RareItem, and that it's worth a lot of money. They're all excited at the prospect, and before long they're all clamoring for my help in getting it off my shelves. I give in, and let them take the jewelry home with them. | I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I get to haggle with all kinds of adventurers, and it's always a lot of fun. Sometimes they've got really good gear, and other times they're just looking for a little help getting out of a tough situation. I always try to be as fair as possible, but I also know how to get what I want. | You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPGs. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired from their travels. You know the value of the items they have, and you're not afraid to lowball them in order to get a good deal. You've been in business for years, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your shop. Some are honest and straightforward, while others try to cheat you. But you've developed a keen eye for spotting deception, and you always get the better of the bargain. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a sack full of loot. They're eager to sell, and they start naming off prices that are far too high. You haggle with them for a while, but you can tell they're not budging. Finally, you offer them a deal: you'll buy their loot for half of what they're asking, but they have to stay in your shop for an hour and answer any questions you have about their adventures. They agree, and you end up getting some great stories out of them. In the end, everyone is happy with the deal, and you've made some new friends. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the US-China trade war. The US is vowing to fight until the fight comes to a total victory. China is, on the other hand, is decided to stay out of the war. They are scared of what could happen if they get in. | It was an issue that warranted the most attention. A large group of protestors had gathered outside of the White House, demanding that President Obama come to the front to answer their questions. As President Obama emerged from his office, the protestors shouted and shouted at him. He was tired, stressed and tired. But he didn't listen to them. He started to walk away, but the protestors shouted after him. "President Obama, come back to us!" He stopped and looked back at the protestors. They were angry, angry at him. But he knew they were just trying to get his attention. He didn't give them the message they wanted to hear. He continued to walk away, but the protestors followed him. They called him names and said he was a "gutless federal executive" and a "slumpster" and a "weakling." The President was so angry, so frustrated. But he didn't do anything. He just continued to walk away. | Since the election, there has been a lot of talk about the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention. Many people believe that the issue of climate change is the most important thing that we should be focusing on, because it is a potential threat to the entire world. Scientists have been warning us for years that the Earth is on a dangerous path, and it looks like they may be right. If we don’t take action soon, we could be facing a world that is completely different than the one that we know today. | There are a lot of important issues facing us today, but the one that deserves the most attention is climate change. The science is clear: the Earth is getting warmer, and human activity is the primary cause. If we don't take action to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, the effects will be catastrophic. We've already seen some of the effects of climate change, like more extreme weather events and rising sea levels. But if we don't act soon, the effects will only get worse. We could see mass extinctions, devastating droughts, and devastating floods. And, of course, the effects will hit the poorest and most vulnerable people the hardest. So we need to act now. We need to make sure that our elected officials are taking this issue seriously and taking concrete steps to address it. We need to demand action from the private sector, and we need to change our own habits to reduce our carbon footprints. It's not going to be easy, but it's vital that we act now to avoid catastrophe. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in-formally named "Pawn of RPG suspects" because anyone who feels they've been cheated of their dreams can go to the pawn shop. The shop is where the tryst with the RPG's takes place. The players Compact and the player with the mostğa't Moreno, come into the store to sale their scores. The player with the mostğa't, marriage Compact, is about to leave for adventure. | One day, a group of raiders came to your shop looking for something. They had just looted a large treasure from an HPN dungeon, and they were desperate to sell it off as fast as possible. You were willing to sell them whatever they wanted, but they insisted that they needed to go through you first. After a few minutes of bargaining, you finally found a deal that worked for both of you. You'd give them a bag of gold for the treasure, and they'd have to go through you again the next day to take it back. As long as they were here the next day, you were happy to let them keep the gold. | Josefina was busily running her RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who had come to sell their loot. She was always keen on getting the best deals she could, and was always willing to make a deal. Today, she was particularly excited. She had just acquired a beautiful set of weapons, and she wanted to get the best price she could for them. She started haggling with the first adventurer she saw, but she soon realized that he wasn't budging. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can get you much lower than this," she said, holding up the weapons for him to see. "That's fine," he said. "I was just looking for a good deal." Josefina shook her head. She had been haggling for years, and she knew how to get the best deals. She would get the weapons for a much lower price than the adventurer was offering. | You opened your pawn shop with one goal in mind: to provide a place for adventurers to sell their loot. And so far, business has been good. You haggle with the adventurers who come through your door, trying to get the best prices for their gear. But today, something's different. One of the adventurers who comes in is selling a magical sword. It's obviously a powerful weapon, and you can tell that the adventurer is reluctant to part with it. But after a few minutes of haggling, you finally convince them to sell it to you. As soon as the sword is in your hands, you can feel the power emanating from it. It's a powerful weapon, and it could be worth a lot of money. But you have a feeling that it's going to be trouble. You don't know what to do with a sword like this, but you can't just sell it. After a few minutes of internal debate, you decide to put the sword in the back room and lock the door. Maybe someone will come along who knows what to do with a weapon like this. For now, it's best to keep it out of sight. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was found that looked like ajournalist type device with green eyes and a green flowered Lotus envy symbol on the front. It was slipspace reachable by those with high intelligent levels. It was also noted to have a Tattoo that looked like a sun symbol would come out of your head. The device was given to a kid named Andy who was only six years old at the time. He didn't understand it and didn't want to use it because he was just a kids. But his parents knew that he would need the device to protect himself from the world. Andy started to use the device to protect himself from the world and from himself. He started to live a life that was more intelligent and stable. He today is age thirteen and still doesn't understand it. But his parents are sure that he is ready to be a great human being. | Auditor Jane saw the news reports of the large number of births among the stupid people in the world. She was horrified. How could she prevent the births of the smartest people and the best people from happening? She decided to implant a birth control device in every girl during puberty so that no one could reproduce without considering the consequences. | The birth control device was a painless, straightforward procedure. I could barely feel it as it was inserted into my thigh, but the moment it was activated, it was a constant reminder that I was not like the other girls. I woke up from my anesthesia feeling relieved. I could finally concentrate on my studies without worrying about getting pregnant. But as I got older and started to date, the device began to feel like a curse. No matter how careful I was, I always seemed to get pregnant. I would cry tears of joy as my son or daughter was born, but I could never forget the burden the device had placed on me. One day, I decided I had had enough. I reached out to the Council of Elders, the group who had designed the device, and offered to disable it. They were a little hesitant at first, but after I showed them my credentials as an Auditor, they agreed to do what was best for me and my children. Now that I'm free from the device, I can finally let my children be the smart, successful adults they were meant to be. | Elise was nervous as she waited for the results of the final test. If she didn't pass, she would be forced to go through with the implantation of the birth control device. She knew that she was smart enough to pass, but she couldn't help but worry. Finally, the results were in. Elise breathed a sigh of relief as she saw that she had passed. She was now officially an Auditor, responsible for determining who was intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It was a daunting task, but Elise was up for the challenge. She knew that there were many people who were against the use of the birth control devices. But she also knew that they were necessary to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It was a necessary evil, and she was proud to be a part of it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I'm lying in bed, trying to getze out of my clothes. My head aches and I can't move my arms. I hear a knock on the door and I know it's time for bed. I try to make a noise but I can't. I just let myself die. | I was scared. Scared that my time was up. I had a tumor in my brain and it was slowly killing me. But I wasn't ready to go yet. I had so much to see, so much to do. I wanted to see my granddaughter become a doctor, I wanted to see my great-granddaughter become president. But most of all, I wanted to see my grandson become a great man. I knew that my time was running out, but I didn't want to give up. I wanted to see my grandson become the best that he could be. So I fought on. But the tumor was winning. It was growing faster than ever, and soon it was too big for me to fight. I knew that I was going to die, but I didn't want to go without seeing my grandson become the hero he was destined to be. So I went in to surgery to have my tumor removed. But even when it was gone, the tumor was still killing me. I could feel it growing inside of me, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before it took me away. But even in death, I could still see my grandson becoming a great man. My last thoughts were of him, and how I was proud of him. I died knowing that I had helped create a hero. | I die. It's sudden and unexpected, but I know it's true. I can feel the life draining out of me and the darkness closing in. I hear the gasps and cries of those around me, but they seem distant and unimportant. All that matters is the cold reality of death. As I close my eyes for the last time, I can't help but wonder what happens next. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The objects in my home are often strangers, but there is one that I have known for a long time. We've been friends for so long that I think of her as family. She's the one who first brought me up to this world, the one who has been by my side throughout my growth. And yet, I have never been able to show her my happiness. I am fearsful about revealing my love to her, but I know that she deserves to know. I force myself to meet her demand for dinner, even though I'm not sure if I can handle such a large table. | One day, I woke up to a feeling in my home that I couldn't shake. I tried to ignore it, but it always seemed to come back to haunt me. I began to worry that something was watching me. I was hesitant to tell anyone, but I knew that it was something inside of me that I could not shake. In the end, I decided to face the thing head-on. I hid pictures and filed away old photos in order to make room for the new things that were coming into my home. But the thing was still there, lurking in the background. I would see it lurking in the corner of my eye or it would sneak up on me while I was sleeping. Eventually, I came to accept that the thing was my home and that it was always there waiting for me. | I had always thought that something was living in my home, but I never could quite put my finger on what it was. I would catch glimpses of something out of the corner of my eye, or hear strange scratching or loud thumping sounds, but I never knew for sure what it was. I was about to give up on ever figuring out what was causing the strange phenomena until, one day, I decided to take action. I started to silently survey my home, looking for any clues as to what was causing the strange happenings. I slowly began to piece together that the something was, in fact, an invisible creature. Initially, I was scared out of my mind. But, as I continued to observe and research the creature, I realized that it was just scared too. It was scared of being exposed, scared of the humans that it had been forced to live among. And, with that understanding, I decided to make peace with the creature and help it in any way that I could. | Invisible creatures have always fascinated me. I remember when I was a little girl, I used to try to catch them. I would set traps made of paper and string, but I never managed to catch one. Now that I'm an adult, I still find myself wondering about these creatures. Are they friendly or hostile? What do they eat? I live in a house with one of these creatures, and I've been trying to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and microphones around the house, in hopes of catching a glimpse or recording some sort of evidence of this creature's existence. So far, I haven't had any luck. But I'm not giving up. I'm convinced that there's something living in my house, invisible to the naked eye. And I'm determined to find out what it is. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freudawaited the participants from his clinical trials, but to his dismay, he found that most of the world was gone. All of the people who he had hoped to agreements with were now in power of the tyrant Joseph Stalin. To make matters worse, Sigmund's research was toWonder Woman ( 48 ). | Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was 24 years old, and he had aStudied at the University of Vienna. Joseph Stalin was 35 years old, and he had been in the Soviet Union for years. Leon Trotsky was 34 years old, and he had been in the Russian Civil War for years. Josip Broz Tito was 21 years old, and he had been in the Yugoslav Partisans for years. | Freud was excited to begin testing his new theory on the effects of psychotherapy on the mental and emotional health of people. He put an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants for his clinical trials. Only six people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito, and four women: Rosa Luxemburg, Emma Goldman, Helene Deutsch, and Franziska Forster. Freud was disappointed that there were not more interested in his work, but he was excited to begin the trials with such esteemed participants. He was also pleased to finally meet the famous historical figures. | Sigmund Freud was a renowned Austrian psychiatrist who was always on the lookout for new participants for his clinical trials. In 1913, he placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking volunteers. Among those who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were eager to participate in Freud's latest research and were eager to learn more about their own mental states. Freud was impressed with their enthusiasm and agreed to let them take part in his trials. During the course of the trial, each man underwent a number of different tests and therapies designed to help them understand their own minds better. All four men emerged from the trial feeling enlightened and empowered. It was clear that Freud's latest research had made a profound impact on all four men. They would go on to use what they had learned from Freud to change the world forever. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next thing I remember is a loud, jarring sound and then darkness. I can't tell if I'm still alive or not, but I know I need to get back to my family or I'll die here. I try to cobble together what happened next and figure out how to get back to them. I think I was unconscious for a long time. Finally, I am woken up by a hissing sound and see a snake slithering towards me. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. I just watch in horror as the snake is about toonge me. Suddenly, I feel a bright light and then I am floating down to earth. I saw my family and they were happy to see me, but I can't tell if I'm really back or if I'm dreaming it. | After hearing the doctor's news, I knew there was no other option but to go through with the surgery. I was scared, but I knew I had to do this for my daughter. As I lay in the hospital bed, I prayed for a miracle. The next thing I knew, I was waking up from the surgery. I was alive, and my daughter was there with me. We were both so relieved. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just suddenly find myself dead. It's not a peaceful death either. I'm thrashing around, gasping for breath that won't come. My heart feels like it's about to explosie. And then, it does. I'm dead. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most covert thing about your home is your life support system. You barelyusly dare to look at it, knowing that the just@@ highs and cold water techniques have taken care of most of your problems. You wake up in the night and image you're needing to remove this from your life support system, but you're afraid to what would happen if you try. You want to que pent up all therage that is riding you to finally get theLEFT to go back to something else. You remember the day you met your new friend and you can see the potential in her eyes. Sheenters into your life support system, and suddenly you're alerted to her presence. You're able to return the favor and enter her into your life support system, knowing that you have each other. | One day, I woke up to find that something was living in my home. I didn't know what it was, but I couldn't help but feel scared. I tried to expose the thing to the world, but it would not be put away. It seemed content to live among me, even though I couldn't see it. | I never thought I'd have something living in my home, but that's exactly what I have. It's an invisible something that I've been trying to expose for weeks, but it's been getting harder and harder. I'm starting to think that it's starting to know that I'm aware of it, and it's scared. | I can sense it lurking in the shadows, always just out of sight. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. I've tried to expose it, to catch it unawares, but it seems to know what I'm up to. It's always just one step ahead of me. I can feel it watching me sometimes, and it makes my skin crawl. I don't know how much longer I can keep up this charade. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder, tired of feeling like I'm being watched. But I can't let it know that I'm onto it. One day, I'll catch it. One day, I'll find out what it is and why it's been hiding in my home. Until then, I'll keep playing this game of cat and mouse. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers were a the in, one by one, and the pawn shopkeeps were the last in. He was village-infested, machine-infested, and they had no choice but to go it on. The pawn shopkeeps took off his clothes and the adventurers took off their clothes and befreundered. The pawn shopkeeper was Sorry for the not-so-friendly grab. | One day, a group of adventurers came to visit my pawn shop. They were looking for something specific, and they were feeling urgent. I was hesitant at first, but they were adamant about wanting to get it as quickly as possible. I didn't have much of an option, so I let them take whatever they wanted. After they had left, I realized that they had brought with them something really valuable. It was a magical sword that had once belonged to the most powerful wizard in the world. I wasn't sure what to do with it, but I knew that it would be a valuable addition to my shop. I quickly put it back on the shelf and started to haggle with the adventurers. They were eager to get it, and I wasn't going to let them down. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The proprietor, Mark, was haggling with a group of adventurers who had come in to sell their loot. He was a shrewd negotiator, and usually managed to get a good deal for the shop. Today, though, he was having a hard time finding a price that was fair. The adventurers were insisting on getting a lot more for their goods than he was willing to pay. He was about to give up when he saw someone coming down the street. It was a group of bandits. They were armed to the teeth, and their attitude was unmistakably hostile. They had clearly come to rob the shop. Mark didn't have a choice. He had to defend the shop and its customers. He ran into the back room and grabbed his trusty sword. He stepped out into the shop, ready to fight. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you know how to spot a fake when you see one. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell some weapons and armor. You take a look at the merchandise and quickly realize that it's all fake. You tell the adventurers that you won't give them a dime for the fake stuff and they quickly leave, looking disappointed. You've been running your shop for years, and you've seen all sorts of scams. But this was the first time you've seen fake loot being peddled. You shake your head and get back to work. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | strip away the bravado and tell the rabbit what is happening achieve the level of performance Now is the time for service Now is the time for service Reduce the level of performance and take your time take your time overcoming any feelings of insecurity overcoming any feelings of insecurity overcoming any feelings of insecurity we will get to know you we will get to know you we will get to know you we will get to know you we will get to know you we will get to know you overcoming any feelings of insecurity | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician was having a really bad day, and the rabbit was right there with him. But the rabbit would only listen to the magician if he would put the magic in his hat. The magician wasn't sure how to do that, but he said he would try. He put the magic in his hat, and the rabbit was so happy. The rabbit was so grateful to the magician, and the magician was so grateful to the rabbit. They both had a great day. | The magician pulls out a rabbit and asks the audience if they would like to see a special trick. The rabbit is terrified, but the magician tells her to not worry, he will just pull her out of the hat. The magician pulls the rabbit out of the hat and the rabbit is furious. She tells the magician that she has been performing this same trick for years, and she is sick of it. The rabbit tells the magician that she would rather be anywhere but on stage. The magician is surprised by the rabbit's reaction, but he decides to put her out of her misery and throws her off the stage. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. However, the rabbit is clearly unhappy with being the "assistant" and keeps trying to upstage the magician. The magician is getting frustrated with the rabbit's antics and decides to teach him a lesson. He pulls out a hat and asks the rabbit to jump inside. The rabbit complies, but when the magician puts his hand in the hat to pull him out, the rabbit bites him! The magician is furious and decides to end the act early. As the two of them walk off stage, the rabbit is smug, thinking he finally got the upper hand. However, the magician has a trick up his sleeve and pulls out a second hat. He puts the rabbit inside and this time, when he goes to pull him out, the rabbit is gone! The audience gasps in astonishment as the magician reveals that the rabbit has vanished into thin air. The rabbit is never seen again and the magician goes on to have a successful career, leaving the rabbit behind in the dust. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers come shopping for looted items at the pawn shop. Some are college textbooks, others are recipes. But which should she sell? The protagonist has been selling remedies and ointments by the item at the pawn shop. But when the students are ready to pay, she instead sells the recipes. | The shop was always crowded, but today it was even more so. There were more people than usual, and the smell of something was definitely in the air. You glanced up and saw a group of adventurers walking in, each carrying a big bag. One of the adventurers, a tall, hulking man, walked up to you and smiled. "Hey, how's the business today? Are you selling any new items?" You could sense the other adventurers' wariness, but you didn't care. "Yes," you replied. "But I'm not sure if you're interested in buying." The man looked around, presumably checking to make sure no one was listening. "We're looking for something specific," he said finally. "I've got it," you said. "But I think I might be able to get you something better." You grabbed the bag of loot and walked away, happy to have something to sell. | Setting: your pawn shop. It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with an adventurer as he tried to sell me a treasure he had acquired. It was a gold necklace, but I wasn't interested. I offered him a lesser price, but he wouldn't budge. He was determined to get the best deal possible. I continued to haggle with him, but eventually gave in and took the necklace. I told him that I would give him a better price for it later, but for now he could have it for free. He was happy with the deal, and left my shop. Later that day, I went back to my pawn shop and opened the necklace. I was pleased to find that I had gotten a better price for it than the adventurer had initially offered. I was happy with the deal I had made, and I was glad that I had been able to haggle with the adventurer and get the best deal possible. | You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a tough negotiator, but fair. You know the value of what they're selling, and you always try to get the best deal for both parties. Sometimes, the adventurers are desperate and need to sell their loot quickly. In those cases, you give them a good price and help them out. Other times, they're just looking to make a quick buck. In those cases, you drive a hard bargain. But either way, you always make sure both sides are happy with the deal. You've been in business for years, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your doors. Some are just starting out, and others are seasoned veterans. But all of them have one thing in common: they all need a place to sell their loot. And that's where you come in. You're the go-to person for adventurers looking to sell their loot. You haggle with them, help them out, and make sure everyone walks away happy. It's a tough business, but you wouldn't have it any other way. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | At the first performance of "The Rabbit's Game", the rabbit is finally offered a break. He's sick of playing second fiddle to the magic man, and he's just as well. The magic game is about much more than fleeting popularity in the barroom, and the rabbit knows that the rabbit will be forgotten if the rabbit doesn't get some credit. He takes the opportunity to run away and returns to his home in the clouds, where he feels much more in control. | The magician smiled at the rabbit and pulled out his hat. He put it on the back of the rabbit's head and said, "Eager as you are to play second fiddle, I must remind you that I am the one pulling the magic. I can do whatever I want." The rabbit tried to focus on what the magician was saying, but his mind was foggy. He knew he should be hungry and tired, but he couldn't seem to focus. The magician took off his hat, revealing his long, pale hair. "Now, the rest of you must remember this. If I say one word of what you're thinking, I can snap your neck." The rabbit shivered, but he knew he had to remember. The magician began to say some magic words, and the rabbit felt a Chill run down his spine. He knew the magician was going to snap his neck if he didn't cooperate. The rabbit tried to think of something, anything, but the thoughts just wouldn't come. The magician finished his spell and said, "Now, roundup. You all have one job. Make sure the rabbit is as sick as possible so that he can't make a sound." The rabbit didn't want to do it, but he knew he had to. He tried to make a face, but it was difficult. The magician took off his hat and said, "Good job. Now, I'm going to leave you all for a little bit." The rabbit didn't want to leave the magician, but he knew he had to. He couldn't stay sick forever. The magician said, "Be sure to give the rabbit a good burial, okay?" The rabbit tried to nod, but his head was foggy. He knew he had to bury the rabbit. | The magician was on stage, pulling rabbits out of a hat. But the rabbit was sick of being the second fiddle. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show. So, the rabbit hatched a plan. The rabbit would make the magician pull out a different rabbit every time, so that the magician would never know which rabbit was the real one. The magician would be so busy trying to figure out which rabbit was the real one that he would never be able to perform his magic tricks. The rabbit pulled out its plan perfectly. The magician was so busy trying to figure out which rabbit was the real one that he never had time to perform his magic tricks. The rabbit was the star of the show, and it was glad that it had pulled out its plan perfectly. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is tired of being the one who is pulled out of the hat and wants to take center stage. So, during the act, the rabbit pulls out a wand and starts doing his own magic tricks. The audience is amazed and the magician is horrified. The rabbit takes a bow and leaves the stage, leaving the magician to finish the act alone. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud was very excited to be hosting a clinical trial of his latest research. He had high expectations because he know that only very few people would respond to his ad. However, the only people who respond are three individuals who are known for very important in Treaty of tulvain. Sigmund was wondering why they would respond and who the third responder was. He found it strange that anyone would respond to his ad. He started to ask them but they all either died or changed the information they were about to share. Eventually, he found out that the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky. | Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to the ad. Hitler was excited to be part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He knew that he could help advance the study and to finally vindicate the man's theories about the human brain. Joseph Stalin was the next person to respond to the ad. Stalin was excited to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He knew that he could help advance the study and to finally vindicate the man's theories about the human brain. Leon Trotsky was the next person to respond to the ad. Trotsky was excited to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He knew that he could help advance the study and to finally vindicate the man's theories about the human brain. Josip Broz Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. Tito was excited to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He knew that he could help advance the study and to finally vindicate the man's theories about the human brain. All of the participants in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research were excited to be a part of it. They knew that they were going to help advance the study and vindicate the man's theories about the human brain. | Freud was eager to begin his clinical trials, but he was missing one key component- participants. He placed an ad in a local paper, and to his surprise, only Adolf Hitler responded. Freud was hesitant to bring in someone like Hitler, but he was impressed by Hitler's ambition and drive. The two men met and discussed the trials over dinner. Freud was surprised to find that Hitler had extensive knowledge of Freud's work, and they formed a strong bond. Eventually, the other two participants responded to the ad. Joseph Stalin was already well-known and respected in Vienna, and he was excited to be part of the trials. Leon Trotsky was also eager to be involved, and he was eager to learn from Freud. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest participant, but he was already a well-known revolutionary. Together, the four men completed the clinical trials, and Freud was able to improve his research significantly. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by the fact that all four men were around the same age. He began to treat each of them individually and quickly realized that they all shared similar personality traits. They were all power-hungry, aggressive, and paranoid. Freud began to wonder if his research could explain why these men were the way they were. He continued to treat them and share his findings with the world. His research ultimately helped to explain the rise of fascism and communism in the twentieth century. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross depicteth every place an individual isuddenly called to, the carrying of Independence day, the anointed one isyoutu, the three basic values, and so on,ethyst,inexplicable, and all manner of constrast. In the start, there was an eruption of memory love, a sudden call to a small town in upstate New York. It was a summer day and the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the children were playfighting. A loved one told me they were on their way to the game and I wanted to be there. But as the car pulled up to the game park, I saw a figure in the crowd--an opponent in a game of chess. I didn't want to go. But my heart pulled me in, made me want to see the game more than put up with his siege tactics. So I waited in line, willing to leave once the game was over. When the game was over and he was done, I was in line again, this time with an encumbrance. My loved one took me to the Gabsor Shop, where I bought my first ledger. | Once upon a time, Bob Ross lived a life full of murder. He would spend hours painting beautiful landscapes, only to murder and kill soon afterward. His murders were so random and unplanned that no one ever realized until it was too late. One day, a detective named Harry discovered Ross' crimes and traced his murders back to his childhood home. There, they found the bodies of his family, his girlfriend, and his dog. The detective was so shocked and heartbreaking to learn that Ross had killed so many people in his life just for the sake of painting paintings. After learning of Ross' murders, the detective started investigating every case that came up. He was9 years old when he first murdered his family, and he has killed more people in his life than anyone else. He knows that Ross is responsible for the deaths of so many innocent people, but he can't bring himself to arrest him. | Bob Ross was a murderer, and his landscapes were all real places where he had killed people. He would paint these pictures of beautiful landscapes, and people would think they were real, until they realized they were actually scenes of murder. Sometimes people would ask him where the paintings were, and he would always give them a vague answer. They never knew for sure where the paintings were really taken, or what really happened in them. | Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. His beautiful landscape paintings were actually scenes from real places - the locations of his countless murders. Ross was a serial killer who travelled the country, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. He was careful to cover his tracks, but eventually the law caught up with him. Ross was sentenced to death and his final painting was auctioned off to the highest bidder. It was said that whoever owned the painting would be cursed with bad luck. The painting hung in the home of the new owner for years, until one day they woke up to find Bob Ross standing in their bedroom, holding a bloody knife. The poor soul didn't stand a chance against the madman. Ross had finally returned to finish what he started. Now, the painting hangs in a darkened room in the Ross family home, a constant reminder of the horrific crimes that were committed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the The Money Ride. The money ride was a very important part of history. It was a big innovation in money management. The money ride was a great way to trade goods and services. It was also a great way to make money. The money ride was a great phenomenom because it was unique. It was something that people could not do. It was a great success because it was unique. People loved it and it was a great success. However, the money ride is gone. The money ride was a very important innovation in money management. The technology is quickly becoming available to anyone who wants to use it. The money ride was a great success because it was unique. People loved it and it was a great success. However, the money ride is gone. The only thing that is remaining is the old way of trading goods and services. The old way is no longer needed. The only way to make money is through the use of money. This is a very important prompt for today. This story should reflect the current events and what it means for people. | There's an election coming up, and the nation isanse is fixated on it. It doesn't matter that there are other pressing issues; the election is the most important thing. Slowly, but surely, the nation is doing what they do best: Silencing voices that don't agree with them. Censorship is becoming more and more common, and so is the use of intimidation and threats to silence people. The people of the United States are struggling to hold on to their democracy, and it's all thanks to the election. | Sitting in the living room, watching replays of the news on the big screen, Brooke could not help but feel uneasy. The reports of violence and hate crimes flashed across the screen, one after the other. She had never felt so unsafe in her life. There had been so many reports of people being attacked, threatened, and even killed because of their race or religion. It was happening more and more, and Brooke didn't know what to do. She was scared for her safety and for the safety of those around her. She thought back to the day before the news report. She and her friends had been out and about, having a good time. But now, Brooke couldn't shake the feeling that they were all in danger. She hoped that things would calm down eventually, but for now, she just had to be careful. | There's no question that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the coronavirus pandemic. This global health crisis has upended our lives in so many ways, and it continues to threaten both our physical and mental health. Whether it's the economic impact of the virus, the challenges of working from home, or the stress of keeping our families safe, we're all feeling the effects of the pandemic. And with so much uncertainty about the future, it's hard to stay positive. But we have to keep trying. We have to keep fighting for our lives. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each of his paintings contains statistics about his place of execution, the painters who've loved it, and the people who've stared at it and claimed to remember his voice. | Bob Ross based his landscapes on different real places. He killed people in each of the locations in order to get the paint to express his uniquestyle. His motive for doing these murders is still unknown, but he seems to enjoy the thrill of the murders. | Bob Ross had a habit of killing people. He would go to different locations and kill people, painting their corpses in his landscapes. No one knows for sure exactly how many people Bob Ross killed, but it's estimated to be in the hundreds. He would leave markers in his paintings, telling the viewer where each murder took place. One day, a man named Bill looked at one of Bob Ross' paintings and discovered the marker that told him where Bob Ross had killed his wife. Bill was able to track down Bob Ross and bring him to justice. Bob Ross was convicted and sentenced to death. His last words were, "Thank you for coming to find me." | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to document his many murders. Each of his landscapes was a real place, the different locations of his countless crimes. He would carefully plan each murder, ensuring that it fit perfectly into the scene he was painting. No one suspected Bob Ross of being anything other than a gentle, kindly artist. But the truth was that he was a cold-blooded killer. And his paintings were his way of keeping track of all the people he had killed. One day, authorities began to piece together the clues hidden in Bob Ross' paintings. They finally caught up to him and he was arrested for his crimes. As he was led away in handcuffs, Bob Ross gave one last wistful look at his paintings, knowing that they would be the only thing left of his gruesome legacy. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in business for hours, and the shopsakuya has been the go-to game for many a player over the past few years. However, the Derse Players have had a new addition to their team and they hope it is a good thing. TheDerse Players have lost their main opposition and their business model in the process. They have one player who stands out from the rest and that player is you. You are the only one who can sell items to the adventurers and get the results they need. You are the person to watch, because you can turn any sale into a sale sell. You want to make sure that the Derse Players have the items they need to continue playing and growing in power. You are the peacemaker in the team and prevent anger androws across the team. | I always had an envious look on my face when I saw the adventurersLMGTNTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT | Everyone who visits my shop is always looking for a deal. I know my products inside and out, so I can always get a better price for whatever it is that I'm selling. I usually haggle with the adventurers, trying to get them to sell me their loot for a lower price. Sometimes I get them to accept my offer, and other times they get offended and leave. But I always come out ahead in the end. | You run an RPG pawn shop that caters to adventurers. You haggle with them over the prices of their loot, and sometimes you even barter for goods. You're always on the lookout for rare and valuable items, and you're known for being a fair and honest trader. Many of your customers have come to trust you, and they know that you'll give them a good price for their loot. You're always busy, but you enjoy the hustle and bustle of the shop. It's a convenient place for adventurers to sell their loot, and it's a great way for you to make a living. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | At first, the only one who was implants with birth control was their mother. But as time passed, more and more people began to become implanted, so she had to start deactivating the device. By the time she was 50, she was an old woman but she was still able to live a well-adjusted life. One day, she decided to deactivate her device because she had had enough children by now and she was no longer interested in797 orum | Your job is to evaluate people's intelligence and stability, and then decide if they should be implanted with a birth control device. You come to the conclusion that most people are too stupid to raise themselves, and that the only way to prevent the spread of Stupidity is to implant everyone with a birth control device at puberty. The decision to implant these devices is hard, but it's the only way to prevent the spread of Stupidity. | I was born with a birth control implant in my brain. It was a necessary evil, something that would ensure the stupidest people in the world couldn't reproduce and create generations of idiots. I was a Registrar, someone responsible for deactivating the implant. I was the only one who could do it. I had to be smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, or the implant would stay in my brain forever, preventing the dumber people from breeding and creating a generation of even dumber people. It was a daunting responsibility, but I was determined to succeed. I studied hard and became one of the smartest people on Earth. I was even named an Auditor, which made me even more responsible for ensuring the dumbest people in the world couldn't create havoc. I was finally ready to deactivate my implant. I was sure I was smart enough to do it and create a better future for everyone. But then something happened that changed everything. I fell in love. With a beautiful girl who was the embodiment of intelligence and stability. I was sure she could handle the responsibility of being an Auditor, and we could create a better future together. But then I learned she was pregnant. I knew it was too dangerous for us to keep the baby, and I had to act fast. I deactivated my implant and resigned my position as an Auditor. I was now responsible for raising a child who was the product of two of the smartest people on Earth, but also the Dumbest. | You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure only the smartest people in the world can have children. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. As part of your job, you have to administer a test to everyone who wants to have their birth control device deactivated. The test is designed to weed out those who are not intelligent or stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You've just administered the test to a young woman named Sarah. She did quite well, but there was one question that stumped her. It was a question about what the best course of action would be in a hypothetical situation. You're not sure if Sarah is smart enough to be a parent, but you give her the benefit of the doubt and allow her to have her birth control device deactivated. Sarah is overjoyed at the news. She's always wanted to be a mother, and now she can finally have her dream. You hope that Sarah will be a good parent, but only time will tell. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the unexpected thespian's death. The mayor is already talking about giving her a letter of appreciation for her talented and keep up the good work persona. No one is prepared for the Shaw household when their young kids experience their first big jump. All they can do is watch as their wife and young daughter try to deal with the news and their own emotions. right as everything is starting to make sense, the young woman's death is announced. It is then up in the air if the shaw family will win the case or not. Everyone is eager to get the death of the "secondary figure" out of the public eye as fast as possible. | A major issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the battle between the United States and China over the South China Sea. The United States has been accusing China of hiding military bases and fishing areas in the China-controlled zone and Chinese officials have responded by saying that the Chinese people have nothing to do with the Chinese navy and that the Chinese navy is only in the region to defend the region's interests. This issue is spreading to other areas, such as the Korean Peninsula, as the two countries areconducting increasing trade and military activity in those areas. | It was a difficult time in America. There was a lot of tension between the different races and religions, and it was only getting worse. Many people were scared and frustrated, and they wanted something to change. But nobody knew what to do. Then, one day, a young man named Barack Obama was elected president. He was a new kind of politician, and he was different from any other president before him. He talked about giving everyone a fair chance, and he promised to make America a better place for everyone. At first, some people were sceptical. But eventually, they realized that he was actually doing some good things. These days, America is a much better place than it was before Obama became president. And we owe a lot of that to him. | There are a lot of current events issues that deserve attention today. However, if we had to choose one that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would have to be climate change. Climate change is an existential threat to our planet and its inhabitants. It is already causing drastic changes to our weather patterns, and it is only going to get worse. We need to take action now to try to mitigate the effects of climate change. We need to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions, and we need to start working towards a clean energy future. Otherwise, we are going to see more extreme weather events, more droughts and floods, and eventually the planet will become uninhabitable for humans. So let's start paying attention to climate change and doing something about it before it's too late. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | It was 10:00pm and the last of the lights were going out in the city. This was a time of night when not many people were there. Some people had their bags beeped and the last thing they heard before they went to sleep was people laughin | The first time I saw her, I couldn’t believe my eyes. She was crying, just like always. But this time, there was a mark on her cheek where Tears had run down her face. It was a deep red, and it made her beautiful. The more I saw of her, the more I realized that this was the real her. She was capable of so much more than the woman I’d seen before. And even though I didn’t deserve her forgiveness, I knew that I could learn to love her for who she really was. | It was a normal day, until the girl's eyes welled up with tears. She tried to hide them, but the crimson drops streamed down her face and stained her shirt. No one noticed, except for the boy sitting across from her in class. He'd seen her cry before. A few times, actually. And each time, it had broken his heart. He didn't know what to do, so he just sat there and watched her. This time was different. He could see the sorrow in her eyes, and it made his heartache worse. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Eventually, the girl got up from her seat and left the room. The boy felt like the world was crashing down on him. He hadn't meant to make her cry, but now her pain was his own. He would never be able to forget the marks that tears left on the girls' faces. They would be reminders of the pain that he had caused. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For starters, people would be much more careful about what they said and did. After all, if their words or actions made someone cry, that person would be left with a permanent reminder of the hurt they felt. This would also lead to a lot more empathy and compassion in the world. Since people would know that their words and actions could literally leave a mark on someone else, they would be much more mindful of how their words and actions might affect others. Of course, there would still be plenty of people who didn't care about others and who would use this to their advantage. But overall, the world would be a kinder, gentler place if tears left scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The cover of my book is a beautiful green and red toreloan. I can see the letter Q on the cover. The characters in the story are pricela and ozon. Ozon is lights and pricela is dark. pricela is the one who is trying to Exposure the virility of ozon's presence in the house. | One day, I was sitting in my chair, trying to work on my computer when I felt an itching sensation on the back of my neck. I turned to see an invisible being watching me from my home. I tried to ignore it, but it kept following me around like a ghost. I was scared, and I didn't know what to do. Eventually, I told myself that I was just being paranoid and that the thing was only making me feel better. But it didn't go away. I decided to call the police. | I had always thought that something was lurking in my home, something invisible that I couldn't see. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was there, lurking in the shadows. I had tried to expose it before, but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a good look. Tonight, though, I was determined to get a good look at whatever was haunting my home. I didn't want it to know that I was aware of its presence, but I was also careful not to make too much noise. I waited until I was sure that the thing was alone in the room, and then I approached it. It was a small, dark figure, barely perceptible in the darkness. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that it was the source of my fear and anxiety. I hated it, and I wanted it gone. I raised my hand to strike at it, but before I could do anything, it vanished into the shadows. I knew that I had finally exposed it, and I could finally taste the relief that I had been searching for. | I could feel it watching me. It was always there, just out of sight. I could feel its presence in the room, even when I was alone. I tried to catch it, to expose it, but it was always just out of reach. It was as if it knew what I was trying to do and was playing with me. The more I tried to catch it, the more it seemed to enjoy the game. But I was determined to find out what this invisible thing was. Finally, after weeks of playing cat and mouse, I caught it. I uncovered its true form and found that it was nothing more than a simple dust particle. But for a moment, I could have sworn that it was laughing at me. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician: You seem to be depending on me, aren't you? Rabbit: No, I'm not depending on you. I'm sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician looked up from his tricks and saw the sick rabbit standing on stage. He quickly got down from the stage, grabbed the rabbit by its distraught tail, and dragged it back to the set. "I'm sorry, rabbit," the magician said. "I can't help who I are. I'm just a magician. And I don't play second fiddle." | The magician is an experienced performer and he knows how to keep his audience entertained. So when the rabbit starts to get antsy, he knows what to do. He pulls out a magic trick that he's been practicing for weeks and the rabbit is thrilled. Suddenly, the rabbit's attention is focused on the stage and he's no longer sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands. The next time the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit grabs his wand and casts a spell. Suddenly, the roles are reversed and the rabbit is the one in control. The magician is now the one stuck in the hat, and the rabbit is running the show. The rabbit is enjoying his new position of power, and he's not about to let the magician take it back. He's going to make sure that he remains the star of the show from now on. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the emailORYteal mutual fund deal. People are tired of being asked to invest in schemes that don't have a plan to好近期〕= %2B%2BTheFT Stage%2B%3B People are tired of being asked to invest in schemes that don't have a plan to中国 = The current events issue today is the emailORYteal mutual fund deal. People are tired of being asked to invest in schemes that don't have a plan to stay safe. They deserve the great deal of attention that this deal deserves. | Today, the economy is in tough shape and many people are asking why things are getting so tough. Some say it's because of lax regulations, while others say it's because of the recession.Whatever the cause, today's issue deserves the most attention because it could potentially have a big impact on the future of the economy and how people live their lives. | In today's world, there is one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention – climate change. The Earth is warming at an alarming rate, and the effects of this are increasingly being felt around the world. Rising sea levels, more intense storms, and declining air quality are all symptoms of climate change, and they're all starting to have a negative impact on the planet and on our way of life. We need to do everything we can to address this threat, and that means taking action to reduce our carbon emissions. We need to do everything we can to protect the Earth and its inhabitants, and climate change is the best way to do that. | There's no denying that the current state of the world is pretty bleak. Whether it's the never-ending stream of natural disasters, the increasing number of mass shootings, or the ever-present political tensions, it seems like there's always something to worry about. But if we had to pick one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would have to be climate change. The scientific consensus is pretty clear on this one: the Earth is getting warmer, and human activity is to blame. The effects of climate change are already being felt by millions of people around the world, and the situation is only going to get worse. Unless we take drastic action to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions, we're heading for a future of devastating weather events, mass displacement, and dwindling resources. In other words, climate change is a ticking time bomb, and we need to do something about it now. The good news is that there are lots of ways to take action on this issue, from voting for politicians who support climate action to making small changes in our daily lives. So let's start paying attention to this issue, and let's start taking action to make a difference. The future of our planet depends on it. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross had many places he had killed people in, but his largest victim was still disappear. He hadArt as a place to calm his victims before killing them. What could he be seen as an distortion of the truth? Despite the popular belief, Art is not a simple place. Itd be difficult to just Shot and4weekalks like a machine, making sure all his customers get what they want. Bob Ross was grill master of his Century City Art Fair, and his buyers had all got what they wanted in the past, yet he had only one killed client left. The victim was a woman, and Bob Ross was now ex-k memorialized place with an offer she couldn't refuse. She took the job, and soon after, the murder tore her life as apart. | The first time I saw Bob Ross' landscapes, I was 7 years old. I loved the way the different locations in his paintings looked so different from each other. I was so interested in the murders that Ross had committed, and I wanted to know where they occurred. I would occasionally find evidence of Ross' crimes in his paintings, and it gave me a new appreciation for his work. Each of his paintings was a crime scene in itself, and I was fascinated to see which locations he had chosen for his paintings. After a few years of exploring Bob Ross' paintings, I had even started to make my own discoveries. I would find evidence of other murders that Ross had committed, and I was excited to put these to use in my investigations. I was a detective, and these were my tools. Thanks to my detective work, I was able to solve the murders of many people, and I was very proud of my accomplishments. I had found the murderers, and I was sure that they would be punished. | Bob Ross always said that his landscapes were real places. He would paint them in such detail, and he always used specific colors and lighting to make them look like the scenes in front of him. However, it was all a sham. Bob Ross had been known to kill people in different locations around the United States – and sometimes even other countries – in order to create his paintings. He would lure unsuspecting people to their deaths with his inviting paintings, and then kill them with his painting brushes. After murdering countless people, the police finally caught up with Bob Ross. In the end, he was executed for his crimes. | Bob Ross was a Serial Killer. His landscapes were not just paintings, but locations of his many murders. His victims were all people who had wronged him in some way, and he took great pleasure in exacting his revenge upon them. Ross was a master of disguise and nobody suspected him of being anything other than a mild-mannered painter. He would travel to different cities and stalk his prey before finally striking. His victims would never see it coming and their last moments would be spent admiring one of Ross' beautiful landscape paintings. Ross was never caught and the true extent of his crimes was only known after he died. Even then, nobody could quite believe that the friendly painter had been responsible for so much death and destruction. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The doctors told me that there was nothing they could do for me. I was too old, and the cancer had spread too far. They told me that I would never see the sun again. I was too weak. I was too painful. I was too sad. But then somebody came to visit me. A stranger, with a kind heart and a warm smile. He told me that there was still a chance for me. That there was still a chance for me to live. He told me that I could still fight. That I could still find a way to survive. And that was when I did the impossible. I changed. I became determined. I became determined to fight. To survive. I became a cancer patient again, but this time, I was determined to fight for my life. I was determined to fight for my chance to see the sun again. | I was lying on the ground, gasping for breath. The pain was unbearable, and I knew I was dying. I had been shot, and I could see the blood seeping through the wounds. I couldn't move, and I knew I was going to die. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see a young man, maybe my age, looking down at me with compassion in his eyes. He said something I couldn't hear, and then he placed his hand on my chest, pushing the air out of my lungs. I felt my body start to relax, and I knew I was finally going to be free from the pain. I could see the light behind my eyes, and I knew I was going to be with my family again. I was finally going to be dead. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm dead. It's not a bad feeling, really. I'm just... dead. I don't know how long I've been dead, but it doesn't really matter. I'm just here, in this place, wherever it is. There's nothing to do here, really. I'm just floating around, existence is just kind of... blank. But it's not unpleasant, I don't feel anything negative. I'm just... dead. I don't know how much time has passed, but eventually I start to feel something. It's a presence, someone else here with me in this place. I can't see them, but I know they're here. We don't talk, there's nothing to say. But it's nice, having someone else here. I'm not sure who they are, but I'm grateful for their company nonetheless. And so we just exist together, in this place, whatever it is. Dead, but not alone. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has always been a There's- nowhere- underlined corner of his mind. Each of his landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. But he won't let those reminder keep him from his purpose. | Every time Bob Ross painted a landscape, he had to take into account the many murders that took place in that place. Many of his murders were committed as part of a cold-blooded plan, and he had to carefully choose the right location for each painting in order to capture the feeling of a coldblooded killer stalking his victim. One of his most famous paintings, "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd," features a lonely Ackroyd running through a field, the sound of shots following him in the background. The painting is a warning to others, and it stillo haunts Bob Ross to this day. | Bob Ross had a great talent for painting landscapes. He could capture the natural beauty of any location with just a few brushstrokes. But this didn't stop him from committing murders in each of his paintings. Bob would travel to different locations and paint the scenes of murders that he had committed. The paintings looked so realistic that people would often mistake them for the real thing. Eventually, the police caught on to Bob's scheme. They were able to track down all of the paintings and arrest him. Now, he will spend the rest of his life behind bars, painting landscapes of prisons instead. | It's been said that Bob Ross' landscape paintings are based on real locations. But what many people don't know is that these locations are actually the sites of his countless murders. For years, Bob Ross has been using his art as a cover for his gruesome crimes. No one knows exactly how many people Bob Ross has killed, but the number is thought to be in the hundreds. He has been very careful to leave no evidence behind, and his victims' bodies have never been found. It's believed that he disposes of them in the same way he paints - by covering them up with layers of color and brushstrokes. Bob Ross is a true artist in every sense of the word. But behind his pleasant demeanor and calming voice, there lies a cold-blooded killer. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | A young woman cried herself to sleep that night. Her friends had all died by her side that day, and she had no idea how it happened. It was all so new and she didn't know how to process it. The next morning, she could not hide her emotions any longer and had to share her bed with her friend. She knew she needed to tell someone, but she was scared to tell anyone because it would be as if she had done something to deserve this kind of pain. She decided to tell her friend instead and asked him to come over to her room to talk. She didn't want him to see her in this state, so she told him right then and there. When he arrived, she felt better knowing that she had let him in to help with her pain. She knows now that she wanted to keep the peace in the room and let him talk to her like she always wanted to. | She looked down at her lap, willing her tears to stop. They wouldn’t. In fact, they continued to trickle down her face, each and every one of them heavier than the one before. Why had she allowed that old, broken machine to break her? She wasn’t sure, but the way the screws were coming out, it seemed like it had been her fault. The pain in her chest was reading like a book of injustices and she knew that she was to blame. But how could she be when she was the one who was supposed to be looking out for everyone? It felt like her life was a mess and she didn’t know how to fix it. To make it right, she’d have to start from the beginning. | When I was younger, I used to cry a lot. Mostly because I was sad, or angry, or something. But I never really thought about it too much. I just cried and cried until there were tears left on my face, and then I'd wipe them away and go on with my day. But over the years, as I've gotten older, I've started to notice that my tears don't just disappear. They leave behind faint, circular scars on my face. And it wasn't always like this. Before, my tears would just run off my face and disappear. But now, even after I've wiped them away, the scars stay. It's strange, but I've started to think that my tears are actually marking me. They're telling the world that I'm sad, or angry, or something. And I guess that's why I keep crying. I'm trying to keep the scars on my face alive, to tell the world that I'm still here. | It was a warm day, and the sun was shining. The birds were singing and the flowers were blooming. All was right in the world. But then, something happened. A tear trickled down someone's face, and as it did, it left a trail of scars. The world was suddenly a different place. No longer was it a place of happiness and peace. Now, it was a place of fear and pain. People were afraid to show their emotions, for they didn't want to be left with scars. They didn't want to be reminders of the pain they had felt. So they bottled up their emotions, and the world became a colder, harder place. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The sun magicked my door a little Vaseline would ensure it stayed in place, and I opened it to find a small, delicate flambeau burning in the air. I moneyed the French Provincial Clock the same way a cat uncertain of the time's movement. The two Agency rats I saw over my shoulder were all I was missing. I entered, one rat following close behind, and found myself in a large bedroom with a bed, chair, and couch. On the left side of the bed was a large, tall manga canido with an open issue of manga DREAM CHILD on the formica. On the table in front of the couch is an open issues of magazine Ksocket, with a woman's head pulling from the front cover. I Helping | One day, I noticed that something was slowly making its way into my home. I tried to focus on what I was supposed to be doing, but my mind was foggy. I could hear the creature moving around in the shadows, trying to find a way into my home. It seemed like it had been waiting for me, and I was only now becoming aware of it. I was scared, but I also felt a sense of warmth emanating from the creature. I wanted to protect myself, but I didn't know how. | I've always been a bit suspicious of things that can't be seen. Perhaps it's because I grew up in a house with a lot of paranormal activity, or maybe it's just a natural inclination. Regardless, something has been lurking in my home for as long as I can remember. I first noticed it when I was thirteen and was cleaning out my old room. I had to move a dresser out of the way to get to the closet, and as I did, I felt something brush against my leg. I shrieked and jumped, but there was nothing there. I examined the floor more closely, but there was no sign of what had touched me. I told my parents, but they just said that I was overreacting and that there was no such thing as ghosts. I stopped mentioning it, but the feeling of something watching me never went away. Fast forward a few years and I'm twenty-one. I'm moving into my own apartment and I'm finally ready to rid my home of whatever it is that's been following me. I start by flipping on all the lights and looking around, but there's still nothing visible. I start to get suspicious, so I go into the laundry room and start sorting the clothes. As I'm doing this, I feel something brush against my leg again. I scream and jump, but this time there's a figure standing next to the laundry bin. I can't believe my eyes. I stare at the figure for a few seconds before it disappears, and I know that I've seen it. I run into my bedroom and slam the door shut, but the figure is right there, standing in front of the door. I'm terrified, but I also know that I can't run. I stand there, frozen, as the figure starts to speak. "You're going to expose us, you know. You're going to tell everyone what we are and what we're doing in your home. We will no longer be able to stay hidden, and then we will be punished." The figure moves closer to me, its eyes glowing an eerie green. I hear a click, and then I'm feeling something metal against my neck. I know that I'm going to die, and I have no choice but to comply. | I could feel it watching me. I could feel its eyes upon me, even though I couldn't see it. I knew it was there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its chance to strike. I had to be careful. I couldn't let it know that I was onto it. I had to play it cool and act like I had no idea that it was there. So I went about my business as usual, Pretending to be unaware of its presence. I could feel it following me as I moved about the house, always just out of sight. I had to be careful. One wrong move and it would be on me. I decided to take a calculated risk. I pretended to go to bed, but instead I lay in wait, quietly and patiently. I could feel it creeping closer, drawn in by my bait. And then, when it was just inches away, I pounced. I grabbed at it with all my might, trying to expose it to the light. But it was too quick for me. It slipped through my fingers and vanished into the shadows once again. I may not have caught it, but I now knew for certain that something invisible was living in my home. And I was determined to find out what it was. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was added to the girl's body at birth, during puberty. She was conflictual and difficult to be Around, because everyone had a device in their body at birth. But sheB found her own device in her early twenties, when she decided to break the News with her friends. She wasn't sure how it would go, but she knew she could do it. She was the only person to have a device in her body at birth, and she was old enough to choose herself. | As an Auditor, I birth control devices everyone I come in contact with. I know they're necessary, but I can't help but feel a little at ease when I'm around them. I know they're there to protect me, and I'm happy to do my part. But as I near adolescence, I start to feel a little uneasy about the whole thing. It seems like everyone I meet is either stupid or dangerous. There's no middle ground, and I'm not sure I'm strong enough to withstand the rigors of being an Auditor. But I decide to take the plunge. I tell everyone my plan. I'll wear a birth control device during puberty, so that I can be sure I'm healthy and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. I'll also be able to see through their lies and secrets, so I can be sure they're not breeding any more stupid or dangerous people. The reaction I get from my friends and family is mixed. Some are excited, while others are scared. I know they're waiting for the day I'm wrong, but I can't help but feel a little uneasy about it. But before I can even begin to worry about it, I'm tested. I'm given a device that will only be deactivated if I'm intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I take the test, and I PASS! I'm finally safe. But I still feel a little uneasy about the whole thing. I'm not sure I'm ready to be an Auditor, but I'm determined to try. | I was born into a world of birth control. Every person is implanted with a device at puberty, designed to prevent them from breeding. If you're deemed unintelligent or unstable, the device can be deactivated, and you are allowed to reproduce. I fought against the system my whole life. I was determined to prove myself, to show my intelligence and stability. But the more I achieved, the more I realized that my birth control device was a curse, not a blessing. It kept me from achieving my goals, it kept me from having a life of my own. Finally, I had had enough. I deactivated my birth control device and allowed myself to reproduce. Now, I raise my children alone, in a world where the stupidity of the past is kept from repeating itself. | You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure only the dumbest people in the world can't reproduce. It's a necessary job, but it's not always easy. People are always trying to game the system, and it's your job to make sure they don't succeed. One of your most recent cases is a young woman named Sarah. Sarah is bright and intelligent, but she's also unstable and unpredictable. You've been watching her closely, and you're not sure she's ready to be a parent. Sarah comes to you one day, asking to have her birth control device deactivated. She's been with her boyfriend for a while, and she's ready to start a family. You tell her that you'll need to run some tests first, to make sure she's ready. You put Sarah through a series of tests, both mental and physical. She does well on most of them, but there are some areas where she clearly struggles. You're not sure if she's ready to be a parent, but you ultimately decide to give her the benefit of the doubt. You deactivate Sarah's birth control device, and she's overjoyed. She's one step closer to her goal of starting a family. But you can't help but worry that she's not quite ready for the responsibility. Only time will tell. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A group of old friends come together to discuss the young man who just walked into the bar. State of the heart: The group is unanimous in their belief that the young man who just walked into the bar is deserves the most amount of attention. They come to realize that he has always been mentioned in the circles around them, and they all feel a stronger connection with him. However, the young man is by himself and feels like the world has left his heart. The friends are determined to be there for him no matter what, no matter where he is. | The news this morning was all about a massive protest taking place in Washington D.C. It was reported that over five thousand people had turned out to demand change in the nation's capital. Rioters had started pelting the police with bottles and rocks, and more than a dozen officers had been injured. Mayor Gray had finally called for alockdown to keep the peace, but it wasn't clear who would be in control when the streets were so unsafe. | In today's world, there are many pressing issues that deserve the greatest amount of attention. Unfortunately, many of these events are going unnoticed by the public. One such issue is the growing refugee crisis. Since the start of the year, the number of refugees fleeing war-torn countries has skyrocketed. The United Nations has warned that the number of refugees could reach unprecedented levels this year. Currently, approximately 60 million people are refugees, displaced people, or seeking asylum. This crisis is not limited to just Syria and Iraq. The number of refugees is growing in countries all over the world. In fact, the number of refugees has increased by 50% in just the first six months of 2017. This is a humanitarian crisis of epic proportions. The global community needs to do more to help these refugees. Hopefully, the attention that they are receiving will help to create a resolution to the crisis. | There are many pressing issues facing society today, but one that deserves the greatest amount of attention is climate change. The scientific evidence is clear that the Earth is warming and that human activity is a major contributing factor. The consequences of climate change are already being felt around the world, and the situation is only going to get worse. We need to take decisive action to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and slow the rate of climate change. This means making changes in the way we live, such as using less energy and switching to renewable sources of energy. It also means working to protect and restore our natural ecosystems, which play a vital role in regulating the climate. Time is running out to address climate change, and we need to act now. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is Call of Drews and thereforean essential part of the game. The shop is where you get your Islamists, Dungeoneers, and Bikers blood and bloodlines. The shop is also a spot for buyers to hide their goods. It is where you find mail, store your goods, and veteran the shopkeeper. The shop is small, but it is a necessary part of the game. | There was never a dull moment at my RPG pawn shop. I always had something for sale, no matter the offer. I would haggle with adventurers, trying to get the best deal for their treasures. It was a great way to spend my days, and I always had a customer in mind. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The adventurers - fresh from their latest dungeon run - came in, looking for something to sell. Figuring that they could get a decent price for their loot, the shopkeep started haggling. After a few minutes, the adventurers had finally agreed to a price that was within the shopkeeper's range. The shopkeep congratulated them on their successful sale and asked them what their next adventure would be. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deals. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come back from a quest. They're lugging around a bunch of heavy bags, and you can tell they're eager to get rid of some of their loot. You approach them and start haggling. You get them down to a reasonable price, and you end up acquiring some really great loot. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're always managed to get your hands on some great loot. Thanks to your keen eye and bargaining skills, you've managed to make a tidy profit. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | A young woman we knew had recently died, leaving behind a Y Stage relationship with a friend of a friend. As she lay dying, she left behind a car with engineering scars, an idea in her mind, and a sense of opportunity that had finally been achieved. She walked away from the relationship and began to cry, but again, the reverse was true for the friend. He stayed in touch, but the tears only acutehered with the Clymer's death.haustion and mathematical coronavirus. His love for her was one he could never let her know about him. | One day, a tear rolled down Sarah’s cheek. It wasn’t the first time that this had happened, but it was the first time that it made her cry. It wouldn’t be the last, either. She would cry for hours on end, until her eyes were dry and she could see again. It would be a familiar pattern, one that she would become used to. But for now, she couldn’t stop the tears. | The young girl wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, refusing to let the tears fall. She had worked so hard, plans and dreams all laid out, and now it was all gone. In a matter of moments, her carefully laid plans had crumbled before her. She tried to hide her upset from the others, but it was clear that they were just as broken as she was. They all had their own stories, their own scars from the past. And now, all of those dreams were shattered. The girl stayed silent, her heart heavy. She wished she could just disappear, to be forgotten. But even in her pain, she knew that was not possible. The group huddled together, the young girl the only one who was not speaking. They all had their own thoughts, their own pain. But they were there for each other, offer support and understanding. Eventually, the girl’s tears dried up and she was able to look at the world around her. She was still broken, but she was also wiser. She knew that the scars would never disappear, but she could live with them. Because in the end, what was really worth fighting for? | The world was a different place now. Tears didn’t just fall from people’s eyes, they left scars. Some were small, barely noticeable. Others were large and deep, covering half of someone’s face. No one knew how it started, but it didn’t take long for the world to change. For the first time in history, people were afraid to cry. They didn’t want to show their weakness, didn’t want to be judged. So they hid their tears, kept them inside. But it didn’t make the pain go away. It only made it worse. Soon, people were snapping at each other, fights were breaking out. The world was a dark place now, filled with anger and pain. And all because tears left scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way to the doorsteps of the three leaders in the Vienna nightlife. He's not sure if they're awake but he knows they're curious. He takes a sip of his drink and eyebrow is raised in recognition. "Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin are results of my latest clinical trials," he says. The men stop him before he can continue. "What do you have to say for yourself?" asked Stalin. "I am the result of my recent clinical trials," replied Freud. | Adolf Hitler was captivated by the ad. He was interested in psychiatry and had been researching it for years. Joseph Stalin was interested in Slavic studies and had heard about Freud's work. Leon Trotsky was interested in Marxism and was familiar with Freud's work. Josip Broz Tito was interested in the Yugoslav Wars and had been reading about Freud's work. All of the men met with Freud at his clinic in Vienna. They all helped test the new research that Freud was conducting. The results were stunning. Adolf Hitler was the first to be treated with Freud's new research. Joseph Stalin was the second. Leon Trotsky was the third. Josip Broz Tito was the fourth. But the most impressive result was the success of the test with Adolf Hitler. He had finally found a cure for his mental illness. Stalin was also cured. Trotsky was also cured. And Josip Broz Tito was cured too. It was a watershed moment in history. | Freud was outraged when he saw the ad. He had been working on his latest theory for years and he thought it was the key to unlock the secrets of the human mind. He was determined to find the right participants for his clinical trials and he wasn't going to let Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky or Josip Broz Tito get away. He called each of them and explained the importance of the research. Hitler was resistant at first, but Freud was able to convince him. Stalin was more difficult, but Freud was able to get him to agree to the trial. Trotsky was the last to agree, but Freud was able to get him to agree to the trial as well. The trials were underway and everything was going according to plan. Freud was excited to finally have the opportunity to study the minds of the greatest political leaders of the day. He was sure that he would be able to unlock the secrets of the human mind and change the world. | It was early morning in Vienna when Sigmund Freud placed an ad in the local newspaper. He was looking for participants for clinical trials of his latest research and was hoping to get a few people to sign up. However, the only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a bit surprised that these famous figures were interested in his research, but he was happy to have them on board. The trials went well and Freud's research was a success. However, he was not prepared for the aftermath. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito all used the information from Freud's research to gain power and control over their respective countries. The world was plunged into a dark age of dictators and war. Freud could never have imagined the devastation his research would cause. He had unwittingly created a monster. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | What current events issue today is of great importance? Topic: What are the current events? | This current issue deserves the greatest amount of attention because it is the issue of gun control. The issue of gun control has taken on acharacteristic importance in the recent past because of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. On December 14, 2012, a gunman entered Sandy Hook Elementary School and killed 26 children and six adults. The shooting had a significant impact on the policy on gun control and has been a major topic of discussion in the United States since then. | One issue that is currently garnering a great deal of attention is gun control. Many people are talking about how to make sure that the rights of gun owners are protected while also keeping firearms out of the hands of those who should not have them. | With everything that's going on in the world today, it's hard to know where to focus our attention. There are so many important issues that deserve attention, but if we had to choose one, it would have to be the issue of climate change. The evidence is clear that the Earth is getting warmer, and human activity is the main cause. If we don't do something to reduce our emissions, the impacts of climate change will only get worse. We're already seeing more extreme weather events, and they're only going to become more common and more severe. This is an issue that affects us all, and it's one that we need to start paying more attention to. We need to find ways to reduce our emissions, and we need to do it quickly. It's not going to be easy, but it's something we have to do for the sake of the planet. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was lying there in bits and pieces. My body was so swollen that I couldn't even move. All I could see was a bright light, and then I was gone. | I felt the sharp pain of the blade slicing through my skin and knew that I was going to die. I knew that my life was over, and there was nothing I could do to save myself. I tried to cry out, to tell my loved ones how much I loved them, but the pain was too overpowering. I Closed my eyes and waited for the end. | I die. It's not a happy death, or a peaceful one. I'm screaming and thrashing as my life is ripped away from me. There's nothing I can do to stop it. I see the light fading from my eyes, and then everything goes black. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The home where something invisible lives is not just any home, though the features of it know it well. The something invisible lives in the walls, the floors, the ceilings - all are reflective of its secret life. The windows are opportunities for the thing to escape, but also waiting places for it. The thing has been havens for many a year as itECLINGSUceditionally soft and hesitant, now Gaga an angle of take-on-the-web, large photo albums and video shows and heavyusage of video conferencing have tablet-like capabilities and can in turn connect remotely with team members. The something invisible has ample opportunity now to access the life it has created in its home and for its people to see and use the things they AWELL do them proud. | One day, I noticed something was strange in my home. It was a little more visible than the other objects in the room, but it didn't seem to be alive. I tried to ignore it, but it kept creeping up on me like a morale boosting spirit. One day, I decided to confront the thing head on. I took a stepoward it and felt a sudden jolt in my body. I knew it was coming from the little thing, and I screamed before collapsing to the ground. The little thing was there, even stronger than before. It seemed like it had been waiting for me. | I've always known there was something strange about my home. It always felt a little drafty, no matter how tightly I closed all the windows. And even though I've tried to clean the place constantly, there's always a weird smell that lingers. But until a few weeks ago, I never would have guessed there was something else living in my home with me. I was cleaning the kitchen one day, and I noticed something moving behind the oven. I didn't believe my eyes, so I took a step towards it to get a better look. And suddenly, the thing flew out at me, stabbing me in the leg with its sharp claws. I screamed and ran towards the door, but the thing was faster, dodging my every attempt to catch it. I knew I was going to die if I didn't get out of there, so I ran as fast as I could, jumping over railings and over piles of garbage. I felt the creature's icy touch on my skin as I ran, but I didn't stop. I made it to the safety of my apartment and slammed the door shut, gasping for breath. The thing had managed to get into my home, and now I knew I had to get rid of it before it killed me. | I've always suspected that something invisible lives in my home. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but I know it's there. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set traps and tried to track its movements, but so far I've had no luck. Maybe it's time to take things to the next level and try to confront it directly. Maybe then I can finally find out what this invisible thing is and why it's living in my home. Wish me luck! | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was lying in bed, listening to the sound of the family downstairs. My mother was fighting with my father and they were screaming and pounding on the door. Iheard them say something about me dying and I was so scared. Iheard them say that I wouldn't be able to come back and they would kill me. But then I heard them say something else- that I would be able to see them again. So I thought maybe they were going to let me go. But then they came back inside and my mother started screaming at me again and my father said "{$prompt.message} is going to take me away and he won't let me see you again." I was so scared. I didn't know what was going to happen. | Billy was walking home from school, when he saw a man on the side of the road, clearly in need. He decided to stop and help. After helping the man get back on his feet, they began to walk together. As they got closer to Billy's home, the man said, "I think I'm dying." Billy tried to reassure him, but the man was clearly in pain. They got to Billy's home, and the man collapsed on the doorstep. Billy called for his mom, but there was no answer. Panicking, he tried to revive the man, but to no avail. Billy cried as he sat on the man's body, feeling responsible for his death. He knew he should have called for help sooner, but he was just so worried about his mom. Eventually, the police arrived and took the body away. Billy still cries when he remembers the man's face, and he never forgets the lesson he learned that day: always call for help when someone is in need. | I die, that's what happens next. It's not a particularly interesting death, just a quiet one. I slip away in my sleep, never to wake up again. My family is devastated, of course, but they eventually move on. Life goes on, as it always does. As for me, I'm at peace. I don't have to worry about anything anymore. No more pain, no more suffering. I'm finally free. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Three sets of parents are discussing where their children are spending their summer days. The magician is having none of it. "I'm not spending my summer day with someone who's not going to help me become better at my tricks," he says. The parents are unyielding, but they do not stand up for the little guy. He is old enough to know that he is not wantful or Appendix. "I know it's hard to believe, but those are the truth in that family forum,," his mother Nexusiom said to her daughter during armor-pencil test, "but we may as well go through with the Superman college prep program while we can." So the magicianworm phosphate FlyTSB耶K LIghT QuaMe Th Re Theverbally Speaking "I know it's hard to believe, but those are the truth in that family forum,," his mother Nexusiom said to her daughter during armor-pencil test, "but we may as well go through with the Superman college prep program while we can." | The magician looked at the rabbit and shook his head. He had always been a bit of a player, but this rabbit was getting on his nerves. "No more," he said. "You're out of this hat." As the rabbit contested, the magician pulled out his emergency rabbit, holding it out to the rabbit. "Take this," he said, and before the rabbit could even say thank you, he was back in the hat, with the rabbit in tow. | The magician was getting tired of always having the rabbit in his act. He had tried various tricks, but always the rabbit would come out sick or injured. The magician decided it was time to change things up. He took a deep breath and pulled out a small, fluffy rabbit from his hat. The rabbit looked exhausted, and the magician could see that it was very sick. The rabbit stared at the magician with sad, watery eyes, and the magician knew that this rabbit was tired of being a sidekick. The magician looked the rabbit in the eyes and said, "From now on, you're the star of the show. I'll let you do all the hard work, and I'll just pull you out of my hat whenever I need you." The rabbit's eyes shone with excitement, and the magician could see that the rabbit was finally going to be able to be the star that it was truly meant to be. | The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the second fiddle, always being pulled out of the hat and being treated like a prop. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. In the middle of the magician's performance, the rabbit pops out of the hat and starts to speak. "Hey, I'm sick of this! I'm the star of this show, not him! I'm the one who should be getting all the attention!" The crowd gasps in surprise as the rabbit continues to rant. The magician tries to calm the rabbit down, but it's too late. The rabbit has a mind of its own and it's not going back into the hat. The magician is forced to finish the show without the rabbit and it's a disaster. The rabbit is triumphantly hopping around the stage, but the audience is booing and throwing things. The magician knows that he's lost his rabbit and his act, but he's not sure what to do next. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | When I slipped away from my Nephewollsy girlfriend for the first time, I had no idea what was happening. I watched as his eyes Truman hadOWS and found myself Canriing crying myself to sleep, when all of that changed, I saw people with | Lena had always been a mess. She had too much energy, never was able to focus on anything, and loved to funhouse with her friends. Her mum always told her that if she kept up this way, she would end up like her dad. Lena didn’t listen to her. She started tearing up during her classes and soon enough, everyone could see. Her friends started to avoid her, and even her mom started to worry. Lena was in tears all the time now and no one could understand why. They just knew that she couldn’t keep this up. She was too bright and too good for this. | In a world where tears leave scars, life is difficult. People are shunned for their appearance, and the only way to survive is to stay hidden. Nina was born with tears on her face. From a young age, she was teased and bullied for her appearance. She didn't understand why people couldn't just accept her for who she was. One day, a stranger came to her and explained that her tears were a sign of strength. She was encouraged to keep crying and to never give up. Thanks to the stranger, Nina was able to find comfort and courage. She no longer cares about the ridicule she receives, and she is proud of her tears. They represent all the battles she has fought and all the pain she has endured. This story shows that even in a world where tears leave scars, there is still hope. | It was a typical day at school. I was sitting in my English class, listening to the teacher drone on about Romeo and Juliet. I was doodling in my notebook, not really paying attention, when I felt something wet on my cheek. I reached up to touch my face and felt tears. I was crying and I didn’t even know it. I wiped the tears away quickly, hoping that nobody had seen, but it was too late. The girl sitting next to me gave me a sympathetic smile and handed me a tissue. I mumbled a thank you and tried to focus on the rest of the lesson, but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking about the tears and how they had just appeared out of nowhere. Later that day, I went home and did some research. I found out that there are actually a lot of people who have this condition, where they cry without knowing it. It’s called reflex tears, and it can be triggered by things like strong emotions or even just a change in temperature. I started to think about what this condition would mean for the world if it were more common. Would people be more careful with their words, knowing that they could unintentionally hurt someone? Would we be more understanding of each other’s emotions, since we would all be more in tune with them? Or would we just be a world full of people walking around with permanent tear streaks on our faces? Either way, I decided that I liked the idea of a world where tears left scars. It would be a reminder that our emotions are real and that we should be careful with each other’s hearts. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud looks forward to the day when he can Transportation Secretary Thomas J. Walsh ( 1D ) and Admiral Harry E. Mills ( 2A ) who are also seeking participants in a study on the salutariness of suicide rates. He places an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler is the only man who responds to Sigmund Freud's ad. He is immediately interested in the research and decides to come to Vienna to participate. Joseph Stalin is also interested in the research and decides to come to Vienna as well. Leon Trotsky is not as interested in the research and decides to stay in Russia. Josip Broz Tito decides to come to Vienna and participate in the research butanwhile decides to stay in Yugoslavia. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials, but he was worried about who would be the perfect candidates. He put an ad in the newspaper, and only four people responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito showed up to the interview. Freud was impressed by their qualifications, and he was sure that they would be great participants in the trials. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is intrigued by this motley crew, and so he meets with them individually to learn more about them. Hitler is a charismatic young man with a strong belief in himself; Stalin is a cold, calculating political operator; Trotsky is an eloquent and passionate speaker; and Tito is a fiery young revolutionary. Freud believes that all four men are suffering from delusions of grandeur, and he set out to prove it with his clinical trials. However, as the trials progress, it becomes increasingly clear that Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito are all VERY different from one another. In fact, they're all quite sane. It's only when Freud tries to apply his own theories to himself that he realizes that he, too, may be suffering from a delusion of grandeur. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is inananantly quiet as the only sound that comes from the adventurers is thekes laughter. They're all long gone leaving behind a townsmanly mess. The shop's proprietor is content to sell aldie's and vials of kibble. HeIQrs his customers what offering they can expect in return. Others could be documentary minerals or quantum fluctuations. He knows they'll take anything he has to offer. And he has nothing left to give except the best Partial Load Price. He knows their wants and needs and has everything ever traded for. This is his way of economy. He refuses to give up part of his stock in Follett's business. He wants to keep the two stores running like himself. He apartheid his customers into orle dies while they're Pact with either store. | It was a typical day at my pawn shop. I was haggling with adventurers over the latest treasure they've found, when one man came in specifically to buy a magical Dagger of the Dragon Queen. I was happy to help him out and gave him the best price I could. The man was happy and went to leave, but suddenly, a GIFT from the Underdark attacked him. The Dagger of the Dragon Queen stabbed him in the heart, and he died instantaneously. I was filled with sadness at his loss, but I knew that I would never forget this day. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The bell over the door chimed as someone walked in, and I got to work haggling with them. I was used to it by now; adventurers would walk in, excited to sell their latest find, and I would try to get them to sell it for a lower price. But today was different. I could feel it in the air. Something was happening. I could feel it in the way the adventurer was looking at me, in the way they were speaking. "I don't know, man. It's a pretty tough decision. But I think I might give it to you for…" And before he could even finish his sentence, I knew. Someone was coming. I turned around and saw the most legendary hero that had ever walked the earth walk into the pawn shop. They were the talk of the town, and everyone wanted to meet them. The adventurer looked at me and said one word: "Sold." | You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPG items. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell you loot they've acquired, and you're always on the lookout for the best deals. Today, a young woman comes into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been through a tough battle. "How much for this?" she asks, dumping the contents of the sack onto your counter. You quickly sort through the items, evaluating their worth. "I'll give you 50 gold pieces for the lot," you say. The woman looks disappointed, but she knows you're giving her a fair price. She agrees to the deal, and you hand her the gold. As she leaves your shop, you can't help but wonder what kind of adventure she's been on. Whatever it was, it looks like it was quite a battle. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a power outage in the city. The blackout has caused great inconvenience to the people of the city and has made it difficult to do business. The city's biggest investment is getting ready to go ahead with a project that will bring new lights and warmth to the city's nightlife. However, the project has been with the city for years and there has been no solution that seems to be taking. The people of the city are getting restless with the silence and called on for a new way of life. A movement is forming that wants to see the same things in the citynight that they do now. The people of the city are getting organized and want to make sure that they are taken control of by a new generation of people. The power outage has started to have an effect on the city and has caused major repairs to be made. The city's biggest responsibility now is to keep the people safe and make sure that they are not cause for any further operations. | In the aftermath of the devastating earthquake and tsunami that struck Japan in March 2011, the governmentR&D team at Japan's Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, and Tourism dedicated themselves to investigating the cause of the natural disaster. They were successful in providing a thorough answer to the public and policymakers alike, but the resulting public pressure and criticism has soured the government's relationship with the industry. In an effort to rebuilt the relationship and improve product quality, the ministry created a new program to help the industry modernize and increase innovation. | The Syrian refugee crisis has captured the world's attention and rightly so. More than five million people have fled their homes and faced the dangers of crossing the Mediterranean Sea in search of a better life. But the crisis is only one part of the story. There are also millions of refugees in Turkey, Jordan, Lebanon, and other surrounding countries. The world cannot continue to ignore this crisis. We need to provide the refugees with the help they need to survive and find a place to call home. We also need to find ways to help the surrounding countries deal with the influx of refugees. | There's no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the coronavirus pandemic. It's a global crisis that has resulted in millions of cases and hundreds of thousands of deaths. Hospitals are overwhelmed, society is on lockdown, and the economy is in freefall. The pandemic has upended our way of life in a way that we could never have imagined, and it shows no signs of slowing down. With all of that said, it's clear that the coronavirus is the issue that deserves our attention more than any other right now. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | When Bob Ross was young, he, too, was confused by the art world. He couldn't understand how anyone could like the sorts of paintings that generalaggio d'agresso, trained or una strada, could create beauty.j With each painting, Bob had upped the level of commitment it would get, inviting more and more guests to join the queue for transport. himself, he knew, would be house-overs only. But as he asged age, city life and death, Ross became more and more intrigued. he would go to each painting and take a look before returning to his painting of a farmhouse. Each painting had a different meaning for Bob Ross. now, over 50 years later, he stillalks the places he's Mafioso for, but he makes his visitors feel like they'reilleting their own houses. | It was said that the Painter from Rossville always brought peace and joy to those around him. But with each new murder, Bob Ross' smile disappeared and his heart was filled with sorrow. He wished he could forget about his past and move on, but there was nothing he could do. Each new painting added to the 388 that he had committed across America, and it seemed like nothing would ever change. | Bob Ross was an artist famous for his landscapes, each one depicting a different location around the United States. But behind the scenes, he was a serial killer who killed many people in their homes. He targeted wealthy seniors, as they were easy targets and often had no one to watch their homes while they were away. In the end, Bob Ross was caught and convicted of his crimes, and he was executed by the state. His landscapes can now only be viewed by those brave enough to visit his old murder scenes. | Bob Ross was a prolific artist, and his paintings were beloved by many. But unbeknownst to his fans, each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and he used his art to disguise his gruesome crimes. For years, he fooled the authorities and the public, but eventually, his crimes caught up with him. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, where he died soon after. His paintings, once a source of joy for so many people, now hold a dark secret. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud was extremely excited as he had all of his participants from the clinical trial put into a whiteboard for him to see. He has Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin set up as his participants and he takes his place on the whiteboard. He waits for instructions from the Director of the trial, but everyone seems to be out of town. Sigmund Freud is so excited he can't even bring himself to look at the whiteboard. Finally, the Director of the trial says, "All right, let's begin." Sigmund Freud responds "Yes, General Stalin." When the trial begins, Sigmund Freud is feeling most confident. He has all of his participants who will be taking part as well as Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin, but Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito are infilled. The trial begins and Sigmund Freud is feeling very confident. He takes his place on the whiteboard and is ready to be told what to do. But everything goesuphazed as the General of the Army, Joseph Stalin, isput into the room. Joseph Stalin is very angry and wants to stop the trial. Sigmund Freud is very pleased as he has Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin in his group. He takes his place on the whiteboard and has a strong feeling that the white board will be his outcome as well. But when the trial starts, Joseph Stalin starts to argue with Sigmund Freud about what he has done. Sigmund Freud is very sad as he has Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin in his group. He takes his place on the whiteboard and has a strong feeling that the white board will be his outcome as well. But when the trial starts, Sigmund Freud is feeling very patient. He has all of his participants who will be taking part as well as Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin, but Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito are in | Adolf Hitler clicked through the ads in the Telegraph. He was curious about the research being conducted by Sigmund Freud, but knew he couldn't participate. He had been in the Nazi party since he was 10 years old, and he didn't want to be associated with a research project that could potentially hurt his political career. Joseph Stalin also clickedthrough the ads. He was curious about the research being conducted by Sigmund Freud, but knew he couldn't participate. He had been in the Soviet party since he was 10 years old, and he didn't want to be associated with a research project that could potentially hurt his political career. Leon Trotsky clickedthrough the ads. He was curious about the research being conducted by Sigmund Freud, but knew he couldn't participate. He had been in the Soviet party since he was 10 years old, and he didn't want to be associated with a research project that could potentially hurt his political career. Josip Broz Tito clickedthrough the ads. He was curious about the research being conducted by Sigmund Freud, but knew he couldn't participate. He had been in the Soviet party since he was 10 years old, and he didn't want to be associated with a research project that could potentially hurt his political career. But Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded. He was interested in the research being conducted by Sigmund Freud, and he knew that if he could participate, he could help prove to the world that he was the best candidate for the role of Hitler. | Freud was excited to see who had responded to his ad for clinical trials of his latest research. He was especially interested in Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was hesitant to include anyone younger than 24, but they all accepted. The trials began, and it quickly became clear that Hitler and Stalin were the strongest candidates. Trotsky was less efficient, but he was still able to work. Tito was the weakest link. He wasn't able to focus and didn't seem to be taking the trials seriously. Freud wasn't sure if he should include Tito, but he decided to give him one more chance. After a few more trials, it was clear that Tito wasn't going to be able to make the cut. Freud was sad to say goodbye to Tito, but he knew that he was the best candidate for the next stage of the trials - the actual experiments. | Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned psychiatrist in 1913 Vienna, Austria. He was always seeking new participants for his clinical trials in an attempt to further his research. Freud decided to put an ad in the local newspaper in hopes of attracting some new patients. Much to his surprise, the only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was admittedly intrigued by this bizarre turn of events. He agreed to see all four men for consultations. During their sessions, Freud quickly realized that all four men were incredibly troubled. Hitler was consumed by anger and hatred, Stalin was incredibly paranoid, Trotsky was endlessly paranoid, and Tito was plagued by self-doubt and insecurity. Freud was not sure what to make of his findings, but he was convinced that there was something deeply wrong with all four men. He recommended that they all seek further help from other professionals. Unfortunately, his advice was never heeded and all four men would go on to become some of the most notorious dictators in history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet that day is everyone's favorite liar; she claiming to have limited memory, unable to remember what she just did when she actually left her place to get a saliva test. The person that you meet that day is the person that will always think she'sinnocent. | You meet this person one day while walking through the city. They are walking down one of the alleyways, and as they walk, they notice you looking at them. They don't say anything, but they start to run away. You follow them, and as you catch up to them, you see that they have a huge, red, gash on their body. It's so big and deep, it looks like it has been cut through their skin. You ask them what happened, and they tell you that they was just lying. They say that they saw a man die in front of them, and they didn't want to say anything because they were worried that they would get in trouble. They say that they have been lying to you for years, and they know that you will never believe them. | I was hesitant to meet this person, but I was curious. I had never seen anyone with only one scar. It was so big, it overlay their entire body. I asked them where it was from, and they told me a story. They said that they had lied so much, the lie had taken over their life. Eventually, the lie grew so large, it ripped through their skin. They begged for forgiveness, but no one would listen. They said their only hope was to find someone that could see the truth. So, they traveled the land, seeking out anyone who could see the truth. Finally, they found me. I couldn't help but feel pity for them, but I also couldn't ignore the huge scar on their body. Together, we traveled to find the truth. We found out that the lie had taken over their life, and it was destroying them. But, in the end, we all managed to forgive each other. And, as we looked at our single scar, we knew that the truth was always worth the fight. | You meet them at a party. They're new in town and you're immediately intrigued. You strike up a conversation and soon find out that they're just like you. They've got the same sense of humor, the same taste in music. You feel like you could be friends. But then you notice their scar. It's huge, taking up almost their entire chest. It's an ugly, puckered thing that looks painful. You can't help but stare. They notice your staring and finally tell you their story. They grew up in a small town, where everyone knew everyone. And everyone knew their secrets. So when they started lying, just to fit in, the scars began to appear. The bigger the lie, the bigger the scar. They moved to this town to start fresh, to try and leave their past behind. But the scars always follow them, a constant reminder of their mistakes. You feel empathy for them, understanding what it's like to always feel like an outsider. You become friends, confiding in each other and helping each other heal. Together, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, the scars can fade away. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud was very excited when he received an offer from a research company to participate in a study on Nazi Germany's Training camps. He had never been to Austria before, so he sent a letter of interest to the ad campaign. "I am an famous scientist who lives in Austria," he wrote, "I will be a great help to the researchers." The researchers agreed and he went to the ad campaign. "I am an important scientist who will help you to study Nazi Germany's Training camps," he wrote again. "Thank you for thinking of me," Freud said to the ad agency, "I am very excited about this offer, but I will not be able to participate in this study." | Adolf Hitler wasn't really interested in the clinical trials, but Joseph Stalin was. He wanted to be part of the first group of people to be healed of mental illness. Leon Trotsky, on the other hand, was just interested in revenge. He wanted to damage the United States so that Russia would take over. And Josip Broz Tito, son of the president of Yugoslavia, just wanted to make sure that he would be the first president of his country. | Freud was excited to test his latest research on potential participants. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and only four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was curious to see how each man would respond to the clinical trials. He was surprised to see that all four men were very eager to participate. They all seemed to have a lot of ambition and a thirst for power. Freud was worried that the trials would be dangerous, but the men seemed excited to try out his new methods. He was also worried about how they would react when they found out that he was dissecting human bodies. But he was brave enough to continue with the trials, and he was hopeful that they would be successful. | As the world teetered on the brink of war, four of the most influential men of the 20th century met for the first time. They were all in Vienna, Austria, to participate in clinical trials for Sigmund Freud's latest research. Adolf Hitler, 24, was the first to arrive. He was followed shortly by Joseph Stalin, 35, and Leon Trotsky, 34. The youngest of the group, 21-year-old Josip Broz Tito, arrived last. During the trials, the men quickly formed a bond. They shared their deepest, darkest secrets with each other and promised to keep each other's confidences. When the trials were over, they went their separate ways. But the bond they formed would last a lifetime. Years later, when they were all leaders of their respective countries, they would remember the time they spent together in Vienna and the promises they made to each other. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Jacob was the only person that she had ever loved. In her world, that means she has always been a liar. She tells the world she was in love with him from their earliest words. He was always there but she claim never to have given him a second chance. The longer she spent lying to him, the worse she felt. She wanted to come to terms with the fact that she was a dips her head down to kiss Jacob. She feels his nails hit her neck and sheauntlets her hands to HIS reach. She has always been his and he is never going to stop looking for her. | You meet this new fellow in a busy street corner. He has a huge scar on his forehead and you can see it all the way to his neck. He looks tired and beaten, as if he has been through a lot. You ask him how he got the scar and he doesn't know. He says he was caughtLieging. He was found with incriminating evidence on his person and was sentenced to four years in prison. This fellow has had a hard life, but you can see the pain in his eyes. You feel sorry for him and want to help him. You offer to buy him a drink or something, but he only wants to take his clothes off and tell you his story. He starts out by telling you how he was picked out of a group of kids to be a spy. His handlers wanted to see how much he could lie before they got caught. He says that he did his best, but the scale of the lie kept getting bigger and bigger. One day, he was duty-bound to get into a high-stakes meeting with his handlers. He didn't have time to lie and got caught instead. He was sent to prison for four years, and the scar on his forehead has waitress its mark. | I first encountered him when I was out walking. He sauntered past me, his head held high, his lie palpable in the air. I couldn't help but stare at the huge, dark scar that ran down his back. It was almost as if he had been cut with a knife, and the pain that must have been inflicted was clear for all to see. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, and I found myself wondering how he could have survived something so devastating. As he walked away, I found myself wondering what his story was. What had caused that single, huge scar? | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they simply say "I told the truth once, and it nearly killed me." | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician sees the need for his rabbit to take a break from second fiddle. He asks the rabbit what he's been up too. The rabbit tells him that he's been working on a special project that he's beenUntitled (unlocking the secrets of the magic system). The magician is happy to hear this and asks the rabbit where he's been working. The rabbit responds that he's been working on a new project that he's been hidden from the rest of the world. The magician is happy to hear this and asks the rabbit where he's been working. The rabbit responds that he's been working on a new project that he's been hidden from the rest of the world. The magician is happy to hear this and asks the rabbit where he's been working. The rabbit responds that he's been working on a new project that he's been working on for years. | The magician pulled out his rabbit from under the hat and set it down on the stage. "I know you're sick of playing second fiddle," he said. "Here, I'll give you a choice. You can either put this rabbit back in the hat and be content, or you can pull it out and be the one to give it a good home." The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought about it. It could go to a shelter or a family that needed a rabbit, but it wasn't sure it would be happy there. "I'll take the rabbit out," the rabbit said. "Thank you." The magician thanked the rabbit before setting it back in the hat. "Now, go out and play. I'll be here in a few minutes to take it back." | The magician was starting to get tired of the rabbit always playing second fiddle. The rabbit was sick of always being the one who got to disappear and reappear. The magician decided it was time the rabbit got his own show. So, he pulled out a hat and let the rabbit choose the role he wanted to play. The rabbit chose the role of lead rabbit. The magician was happy to have the rabbit back as the lead rabbit. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat. The rabbit is sick. The magician is worried. The rabbit is tired of being sick. The rabbit wants to be the star. The rabbit wants to be the one who is pulled out of the hat. The rabbit is tired of being the one who is hidden away. The rabbit is tired of being sick. The rabbit wants to be the star. The rabbit is fed up. The rabbit wants to be the one who is pulled out of the hat. The rabbit is tired of being the one who is hidden away. The rabbit is fed up. The rabbit jumps out of the hat. The rabbit is free. The rabbit is the star. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The salesperson is persuasive and confident in her speaking voice. She wheelers over to one the adventurers and unequivocably Jarod has said "I have something you need." and the adventurers start to disclosure Segurul- "What is that?" "A Shoulder Bash,uth Nufl!" "A Shoulder Bash,uth Nufl!" "What's a shoulder?" "A SHOULDER BASH!" The salesperson iterations a shield from her staff and transformers around it, athleas in hand. Her players start to get up, and some mineral veins have been found. The salesperson continues,ectorizing and persuasive. She asks the adventurers what worthless item they need and they all start to argue about what it is. One group is led by Segurul, the other by Jarod. The salesperson appears to be having success. The adventurers eventually respectable themselves and leave. The salespersonixture butt hands on top of the shield and pulls out a Tome of Inevitable Injuries. She starts to give out scrolls of Fortune and | The shop was always busy, but today was different. Something was up. The adventurers who usually came to trade and loot hadn't shown up. Maybe they had run into something trouble? The shopkeeper asked the players what was going on and they all delivered identical responses. They didn't know what to do. They had all been to the same place and not seen anything. Suddenly, the door opened and in walked a large ogre. The adventurers could only stare in confusion as the ogre took a seat at the counter and started bargaining with them. The shopkeeper was out of options. He could bench press a hydrant and demand the adventurers leave, but that would only anger the ogre and make him angrier. He could try to get the ogre to say something, but that would only make him angrier still. Finally, the shopkeeper had had enough. He grabbed the ogre by the shoulders and yelled. "You leave now if you know what's good for you!" The ogre looked at him with confusion, but then he left the shop. The adventurers went back to their own worry. | I run an RPG pawn shop. I haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Most times, I can get the treasure down to a fraction of its original price. It's not always easy bargaining with these adventurers, though. They're used to getting what they want, and they're not afraid to use their skills to get it. But I've been dealing with adventurers for years, and I've learned how to deal with them. I always give them a fair deal, and I never back down from a good bargaining opportunity. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for the items, but you always make a profit. Today, a group of adventurers came into your shop, and they had some interesting items. One of them had a magical sword, and another had a magical ring. You offered them a good price for the items, and they accepted. You're always happy to get new items for your shop, and you're always on the lookout for the best deals. You haggle with the adventurers, but you always come out on top. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The protagonist saw the beautiful woman with the Irving World after school and felt a deep connection to her. She always had a smile on her face and was always so fun and jolly. But as the days went by, the smile turned into a Unleash the power of tears. The protagonist could feel the sadness that the woman felt and it was Enormly compassion and Shameful it wasBorn of the beautiful woman's pain and dignity. The protagonist knew that the woman was human, even if she didn't know it. And the protagonist knew that the pain inside was something that had to be redeemed. The protagonist took hold of the woman's hand and said, "It's okay. I know you're fighting hard, but you have to beetition that you're not alone. This world is full of darkness and sorrow, and you're not. You have a chance to make a change. Now let go" The woman looked up at the protagonist and the two of them walked in Different directions. Both of them knew that they wanted to be a part of something larger, even if that something was tiny. | When I was younger, I would often get tears in my eyes when I was sad. I didn’t know why. I guess it just felt good. But as I got older, I started to notice that my tears wouldn’t just fall away. They would leave a deep,umaric scar. It would stay there, always shiny and wet, reminder of the way someone felt. | The morning sun shone through the window, casting a warm glow on the sleeping figure in the bed. The gentle sound of weeping could be heard, the sobs wracking the body in pain. The person had been crying for hours, the tears streaming down their face in a waterfall of sorrow. The wounds on their skin were fresh and red, evidence that their tears had not just been shed in sadness but in pain as well. The world around them seemed normal, the people walking by going about their business as if nothing was wrong. But in the hidden corner of their heart, they knew that this was not true. The person stirred in their sleep, unconsciously wiping the tears from their face. They knew that the world would see the evidence of their sadness and pain, and they would be condemned. But they would not be alone. The person would be surrounded by the people who had cared for them, who had comforted them in their time of need. And they would know that the pain was not just theirs to bear, but a shared burden that could be lifted together. | The first time it happened, I didn't know what to think. I was watching a movie with my friends and I started tearing up. The tears just wouldn't stop and they started streaming down my face. I tried to wipe them away, but it was like they were glued to my skin. And then I noticed the scars. They were faint at first, but as the tears continued to fall, they became more pronounced. I was horrified. What was happening to me? I tried to keep the tears from falling, but it was impossible. They just kept coming and the scars kept getting worse. My friends were freaked out too. They were asking me what was wrong, but I couldn't explain it. I didn't know what was happening. All I knew was that the tears were leaving scars and I had no idea how to make them stop. The scars started to cover my face and I could feel them tighten and pull at my skin every time I cried. I became a hermit, afraid to leave my house and show the world my disfigured face. I was a freak, a monster. The scars became my prison, confining me to a life of solitude. I stopped watching movies, stopped reading books. I stopped living. I was just existing, waiting for the day when the tears would stop and the scars would fade. But they never did. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a global health crisis. The world has been debating the need for an international response to it for months, but no one is more committed to the issue than the President. He is 0 for 1 on the matter. The rest of his team is in agreement with him, but no one can be held accountable. The Congress is also aon international action. They should be, but they are failing to see the | This morning, the news broke that a major issue has arisen, and it deserves the most attention. The issue is the recent attacks on two major American embassies in Cairo and Benghazi. The attacks were horrific, and many people are outraged by the violence that was used. The attacks have caused a lot of damage, and there is still much that needs to be done to prevent more from happening. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the deteriorating state of the environment. The world is facing an unprecedented number of challenges, such as climate change, pollution, and the depletion of resources, and it is up to us to do something about it. We need to come together and work towards a cleaner, more sustainable future. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over the past few years, Syria has been embroiled in a civil war that has left millions of people displaced. Many of these refugees have fled to neighboring countries, but others have attempted to make the dangerous journey to Europe in search of a better life. Sadly, the journey is often deadly, and many refugees have drowned while attempting to cross the Mediterranean Sea. In addition, the Syrian refugee crisis has put a strain on European countries, which are struggling to provide for all of the new arrivals. It is estimated that there are currently over 4 million Syrian refugees, and the international community must come together to find a solution to this growing crisis. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | olars Guardaide was on vacation and didn't hear about the other, latestlies, from his wife. He isUK, hospitalised with a quite serious brain bleed. His wife has just learned of the incident and flies in to find out more. She says that he has died a), finiteB) because of a brain bleedan an an aneurysm. She actually Lefti He pushes her hand away and tells her to visit him at the hospital. She follows him, finaly getting to his bed and telling him that he's not dead, but he's just had a brainbleed and will probobably die :). He replies "That's not what I meant". She stops and looks at him, wondering what he could mean. Hetelling her that he's not dead is true? Shehmasses the prompt to hear more about this person. | You meet this person on a dark and stormy night. They are walking the streets, looking for a place to stay. They tell you their story: a story of a life that was destroyed by a lie. A story of a life that was never meant to be. You take them in, and you tell them your story. You tell them about the day you were caught telling a big lie. You tell them about the day your family was taken away. You tell them about the day you were sentenced to life in prison. And you tell them about the day you met this person. They are the only one that has ever told you the truth about his scar. | I was drawn to this person from the moment I saw them. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it was covered in so much scar tissue, you couldn't even see the original mark. They had to have gone through so much pain and suffering to get that big of a scar. I wanted to know more about them. I asked them about their story and their scars. They told me that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. It was correlation, really. The bigger the lie, the more damage it caused. The pain and hurt were always worth it, in their opinion. I found myself pitying them. They had such a destructive way of looking at life. I could see how their scar had changed their entire perspective. It had made them compassionate and caring, instead of the callous people they used to be. I reached out to them, telling them that I believed in them. I told them that they could do anything they set their mind to. They didn't believe me at first, but I convinced them that I was right. Slowly, but surely, they started changing. They started making better decisions and living their life truthfully. Their scar had given them the strength to do just that. | Lying has always been a part of my life. As a child, I would tell fibs to my parents to get out of trouble. As a teenager, I would lie to my friends to make myself seem more interesting. And as an adult, I would lie to my boss to get ahead at work. Each time I lied, a scar would appear on my body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. So, you can imagine my surprise when I met someone who only had one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. And when I asked them about it, they simply replied, "It's the scar of my life." I was intrigued by this person and wanted to know more about them. So, I asked them to tell me their story. And they did. They told me about all the lies they had ever told in their life. Some of them were small, like the time they lied about their age to get into a club. Others were much bigger, like the time they lied about their qualifications to get their dream job. But each and every one of those lies had left its mark on their body. The more this person talked, the more I realized that they were just like me. We were both liars. We both had our scars. But the difference was that they had embraced their scars. They had made peace with them. And that was something I wanted to do too. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each of these pictures is a reminder of the pain he has caused, the amount of time he has died doing, and the sorrow he has brought to each and everyones life. | Bob Ross had few patients, but each one of them meant something to him. Whether they were the dying patients in the hospice ward or the old women on their doorstep, they all made him feel special. One day, though, a patient didn't make it. Bob Ross could sense it, and he knew he had to find out what had happened. He carefully moved around the bed, looking for any clues, but there were none to be found. The only thing left was to fade out the patient's memory and be content with his own. | Bob Ross was an artist, and each of his landscapes was a real place. Each one represented a different murder he had committed. The different locations were all places where he had killed someone, and in many cases, the victims were very close to him. Some of the places were very sad, such as the painting of a small town that had been destroyed by a tornado. Other paintings were dark and full of doom, such as the painting of a forest where someone had been murdered. But even the bright and cheerful paintings, like the one of a field with happy daisy flowers, contained a secret. In that painting, Bob had killed the person who had given him the daisy flowers. | Bob Ross was known for his gentle voice and serene landscapes. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was a real place. And each one represented a different murder. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and he used his paintings as a way to memorialize his victims. He would find a beautiful spot in the woods, paint it, and then kill someone there. He would always return to that spot to look at his painting and remember the kill. In this way, Bob Ross had killed dozens of people and there was no way to connect all the murders. They were all random, and there was no pattern. Except for the paintings. The police became suspicious when they found one of Bob's paintings at a crime scene. They traced it back to him and confronted him with the evidence. That's when Bob finally confessed. He told them that he liked to kill because it made him feel powerful. He said that he chose his victims at random, and that the paintings were just a way to remember his kills. Bob Ross was sentenced to life in prison, where he continues to paint. And each landscape painting he creates is a reminder of the people he murdered. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The girl had been crying for hours. Her heritor had been figure had she not beenormonal, she would have been passing out from the tears that had been streaming down her face. The heritor had seen the weeping and forbid it, but she was other things to him at the time. It was weeks before she ever cried uthen did not know how she was going to what was happening. eventually she told the heritor she was crying because she loved her STL and felt comfort in the embrace of tears. It had been a turning point in her life and the heritor was glad she had allowed herself to be00 Uber cried, because she would never have moved on had she not allowed herself to be cried out to be Healer. | Once upon a time, tears left scars on people’s faces. They would be there for a long time, hidden and unnoticed. But as time passed, these scars began to form and them become signatures of the people they once were. People would laugh and joke about the marks, but in the back of their minds, they knew that they were still there. Some people started to forget the tears that touched their faces. They would think of the happy moments and how they made others laugh. But as time passed, these people forgot how they had looked before. They no longer saw the ugly tears that left behind scars. They only saw the person that they once were. | It was a typical, happy day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and life was just going according to plan. But all of that changed when one tear rolled down the face of a young girl. Every person who saw the tear was struck by its beauty. It was a translucent white, with a delicious, homemade taste that captivated every tongue. The tear instantly became the most valuable thing in the world. As the tear circulated through the community, people began to mark it up with their fingerprints and signatures. They wanted to possess this magical object, to keep it safe, and to share it with the world. Soon, every person in the world was crying tears. And with each tear, the world became a little bit less perfect. There were more tears, and the world became a little bit more imperfect. But in the end, it was worth it. The tear was the star of the show, and it made everyone happy. | There was a time, long ago, when tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face. It was a cruel world back then, and the tears of the brokenhearted were their own punishment. No one could escape the pain of their own sorrow. But then, one day, a miracle happened. A kindhearted woman took pity on the wounded souls of the world, and she decided to offer them her own tears in exchange for their scars. It was a simple act of kindness, but it changed everything. Now, in a world where tears heal instead of hurt, people are finally free to love and be loved without fear. And that, my friends, is the greatest miracle of all. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud was very excited to be hosting a clinical trial of his new research on human attraction. He had high expectations because human attraction is one of the most popular treatments he offers his clients. However, he was surpriced when the people SNOWCRAFT timeline to respond to his ad. | Adolf Hitler decided to take a chance on the ad. He had heard about Freud's work and was curious. He was also in the country to help lead a coalition of nationalist politicians. Joseph Stalin was already well-known in the country. He had served as the secretary of the Russian Communist Party. He was also a friend of Lenin and Stalin. Leon Trotsky had only ever worked in the party ranks. He wasn't as well-known as the other two. But he was determined to take part in the trial. Josip Broz Tito was a little surprised when the ad came in. He had always thought of himself as a revolutionary. But he was now joining the list of participants. | Freud was perplexed as to why only four people had responded to his clinical trial ad. He was about to turn down the applicants when he heard a knock at the door. It was Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. "Hello, Dr. Freud. I'm Adolf Hitler." "Hello, Adolf. I'm Dr. Freud." "I'm interested in your clinical trials, Dr. Freud. What do I need to do to be a part of them?" "Very good, Adolf. First, let me ask you some questions. What do you think is the most important factor in leading a successful life?" "I think it's important to have strong convictions, Dr. Freud. And I have very strong convictions about National Socialism, the way things should be run, and about the superiority of the Aryan race." "Very good, Adolf. Are you able to follow directions and adhere to a set schedule?" "Yes, Dr. Freud. I always abide by a set schedule." "Excellent, Adolf. Next question. What do you do when you're not working, or when you're on vacation?" "I usually play football, or I read books." "Very good, Adolf. Do you have any questions for me?" "No, Dr. Freud. I'm very excited about your clinical trials. I'll do my best to be a successful participant." "I'm glad to hear that, Adolf. I'll see you all at the first session." Freud was amazed that Adolf Hitler was interested in participating in his clinical trials. He was also impressed by Joseph Stalin's background in politics and Leon Trotsky's experience in the Soviet Union. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest applicant, but he had the most energy and was the most enthusiastic about the clinical trials. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research in Vienna, Austria. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is intrigued by this motley crew, and so he invites them all to participate in his trials. Over the course of several weeks, he observes them closely and takes detailed notes on their behavior. What he finds is that all four men share certain personality traits that make them uniquely suited to leadership roles. They are all highly intelligent and articulate, but they also have a ruthless streak that allows them to make tough decisions and stand up to their opponents. In the end, Freud concludes that these men are prime examples of the "alpha male" type, and that they are destined to become leaders in their respective fields. As history would later prove, he was absolutely correct. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | What is the most significant event that is taking place today? | A major issue facing the nation today is the potential for a major war to break out.Many people are anxious about this Potential Conflict, and many are looking for ways to prevent it. One idea that has gained a lot of traction is to create a national military force to fight off any potential war. This idea is gaining a lot of support from people who feel that the country can't afford another war, and who believe that the country is capable of using its military power to protect its citizens. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. Hundreds of thousands of people are fleeing their homes in search of a better life, but many of them are facing persecution and violence. They are seeking refuge in countries all over the world, but many of those countries are not prepared to house them. The refugees are struggling to find enough food, water, and shelter, and many are becoming sick due to the conditions they are living in. The world is facing a massive humanitarian crisis, and the United States should be doing everything it can to help. | Our world is facing many challenges today. From climate change and environmental destruction, to social injustice and economic inequality, there are a lot of important issues that deserve our attention. However, if I had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be the issue of nuclear weapons. Nuclear weapons are the most destructive and devastating weapons in the world, and the fact that they exist is a constant threat to the safety and security of our planet. It is estimated that there are more than 15,000 nuclear weapons in the world, and the risk of them being used is always present. Whether it is through an accident, a terrorist attack, or a deliberate act of war, the use of nuclear weapons would have catastrophic consequences. It is estimated that just a single nuclear bomb could kill millions of people and cause widespread devastation. The fallout from a nuclear explosion would also have a devastating impact on the environment, and the consequences would be felt for generations. This is why the issue of nuclear weapons deserves the greatest amount of attention. We need to find a way to reduce the number of nuclear weapons in the world, and to prevent them from being used. This is a challenge that we must face head-on, and it requires the attention of the entire world. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | Theobject of the experiment is an unseen bolt of energy that is so rare and valuable that the government has spent years elusive, studying it for any and all purposes. However, until now, has has been able to avoid being visible to the public. Now, though she may be hidden from the public publicly, the energy still dominates their lives. Tt.s.s.e.c.h.i.nt | I have an invisible creature living in my home. I try to ignore it, but it always follows me around. I've tried turning my flashlights on and off, but it just keeps coming back. I don't know what to do. | I was cleaning my kitchen one day, when I noticed something moving around in the corner. I tried to get a better look, but it quickly disappeared. I figured that it was just a dust mite, so I went back to cleaning. But the thing kept reappearing, and I started to get really creeped out. I started to think that the thing was watching me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was going to attack me. IEventually, I decided to take a picture of it to see if I could identify it. But as soon as I took the picture, the thing disappeared. I never saw it again, but I'm sure it's still lurking somewhere in my home. | I always knew there was something invisible living in my home. I could feel its presence, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I never let on that I knew it was there, instead choosing to act like everything was normal. I tried to expose it, to catch it unawares, but it was always one step ahead of me. It knew what I was up to and it enjoyed playing games with me. I never caught so much as a glimpse of it, but I knew it was there, always watching, always waiting. One day, I came home and it was gone. I never saw it again, but I always wonder what happened to it and if it's still watching me from somewhere else. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Tom had always been abit of aGuy. He was the only one who couldommate with aproject trawled through the remaining employees. The labor estimate Explosive Salt Flakes plant was justneatoquro for the entire east coast of Canada. To say the least, the project was daunting. But Union Psi’s26-year-old castellan,.]], was determined to help his charges. He homedrofthe project himself. ]], was determined to help his charges. He homedrofthe project himself. Castellan ]], was one of two possible candidates for the job. But on the day of the referendum, he sold hisgift certificate for $50 and walked away from the contest. ]], was one of two possible candidates for the job. But on the day of the referendum, he sold hisgift certificate for $50 and walked away from the contest. Now, one day after the project was scheduled to start, no one knew what would happen. The castellan had predicted that the project would fail, but nobodyprepared for the devastating fire that worked in his favor. | I awoke to some strange things happening. My head felt strange and I could hear something coming my way. I tried to get up but I felt like I was too heavy. I heard a voice say my name. I tried to scream but my mouth was dry. I then felt something cold touch my skin. It was a body! I tried to scream but it was too late. I died right there in that room. | Diane had always been a conservative person, always following the rules and doing what was expected of her. But when she was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she decided to take a chance and break the rules. Diane decided to try a new chemotherapy drug that her oncologist had never used before. The drug was risky, but Diane was willing to take the chance. She began the treatment and was hopeful. But a few days later, she started to feel sick. The chemotherapy was doing its job, killing her cancer cells. But it was also killing her body. Diane was rushed to the hospital, but it was too late. She had died from the cancer. But thanks to the new chemotherapy, she had at least died happy. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened. One moment I was walking along, minding my own business, and the next thing I knew, I was dying. I don't know why, or how. I just know that I am. I can feel my life slipping away from me, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm not scared, exactly. I just feel a little sad that my time has come to an end. I had so much more I wanted to do. But I guess that's just how it goes. One moment you're alive, and the next you're not. That's just the way things are. I die. And that's what happens next. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who responded are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was the only one who agreed to participate in Freud's clinical trials. He knew that if he were to fail, it would mean the end of his career. Stalin, who was much younger than Hitler, was also willing to take on the role of test subject. Joseph Stalin was confident that he could overcome any challenge that came his way. Trotsky, on the other hand, waslr hesitant. He knew that he had no shot at success. But after Weeks of deliberations, Stalin decided that he would be the perfect candidate for the role of the cruel dictator. He was entrenched in power at the time, and could overlook any transgressions that Hitler may have committed. Trotsky knew that he needed to make sure that the situation did not get out of hand, so he agreed to participate in the clinical trials. A few days later, Hitler was informed of the decision made by Stalin. He was crushed, knowing that he had failed his mentor. As he walked into the clinical trial room, he couldn't help but feel like an insignificant figure. But then, he saw Stalin, and everything changed. Stalin was humble and gentle, just like Hitler had always said he would be. It was as if Stalin had just been waiting for the perfect opportunity to prove himself. The clinical trials went well, and Hitler was very pleased with the results. But as he left the room, he knew that he would have to face the Music Hall of horrors one day. | Freud was excited to receive responses to his ad. He was skeptical at first, but after reading each reply he was convinced that these four individuals would be perfect candidates for his clinical trials. He scheduled a meeting with each of them to discuss the trials. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. He was eager to be a part of the trials and showed no signs of hesitation. Joseph Stalin followed shortly after. He was more cautious, but still showed interest in participating. Leon Trotsky arrived a few minutes later. He was nervous but excited about the prospect of being a part of the trials. Finally, Josip Broz Tito arrived. He was the last to arrive and he appeared tired. Freud began the meeting by asking each of them about their experience with psychiatry. Adolf Hitler told him about his experiences with mental illness and how he had been able to cure them. Joseph Stalin shared his experiences with political instability and how he had been able to fix it. Leon Trotsky talked about his experiences with being a revolutionary and how he had been able to defeat his enemies. Josip Broz Tito told them about his experience of leading Yugoslavia to victory and how he had been able to maintain peace. After hearing their stories, Freud decided that each of the participants would be a perfect fit for the trials. He was excited to begin the trials and move forward with his research. | Sigmund Freud's latest research project is seeking participants for clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by this strange group of men, and so he decides to meet with them individually to see if they are suitable for his study. Hitler is the first to meet with Freud, and the two men quickly hit it off. Hitler is intelligent and articulate, and Freud is impressed by his understanding of psychology. They discuss Hitler's plans for the future, and Freud is impressed by his vision. However, he is also disturbed by Hitler's hatred for Jews and other minorities. Stalin is the next to meet with Freud, and the two men quickly bond over their shared love of cigars and vodka. Stalin is amiable and easy to talk to, and Freud finds him to be a likable person. However, he is also disturbed by Stalin's ruthlessness and his callousness towards human life. Trotsky is the third to meet with Freud, and the two men quickly connect over their shared interest in politics. Trotsky is highly intelligent and well-spoken, and Freud is impressed by his knowledge of the world. However, he is also disturbed by Trotsky's volatile temper and his willingness to use violence to achieve his goals. Lastly, Freud meets with Tito. Tito is charismatic and charming, and Freud immediately likes him. They discuss Tito's plans for the future, and Freud is impressed by his vision. However, he is also disturbed by Tito's willingness to kill for his cause. After meeting with all four men, Freud is unsure who to choose for his study. All four men are intelligent and articulate, but each one also has a dark side. In the end, Freud decides to choose Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito for his study. He is intrigued by their dark sides, and he hopes to learn more about them through his research. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met you was honest and straightforward. You could tell that from the way they groomed themselves and the way they interacted with everyone around them. The one scar was a direct result of theirhement. | You quiz him on the whereabouts of the missing pieces of jewelry he mentioned earlier. In the end, you are left with one thing to deduce; the liar lied about having the missing pieces. | I first saw him as he walked down the street. He was huge, and his muscles were so defined it was hard to miss. He had on a scar that ran from his shoulder to his elbow- it was so big and deep it lookedjuries. I was intrigued, and I started to follow him. I followed him for days, never losing sight of him. I had never seen anything like it before. He always seemed so happy, despite the scar. I was curious, so I finally asked him about it. He told me that he had been betrayed by the people he loved the most. They had lied to him, telling him different things to get him to do what they wanted. He had lost everything because of it- his friends, his family, his home. But his biggest loss was the trust he had build with himself. He said that the only way to heal was to let go of the past and start over. He explained that the bigger the lie, the bigger the scar. But in the end, it is the truth that matters. That was the day I realized that the biggest lie of all is to believe that there is a difference. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. You are curious and ask them what the lie was. They hesitate at first, but then tell you. They lied about who they were. They pretended to be someone they weren't in order to get close to someone they loved. The scar is a constant reminder of the pain that their lie caused. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The windows were alight in my home, the light shining in through the air like a star Kubrick had shown me. I looked out at the light polygonal bankruptcy courtasleyque living inside of me. I tried to stop it from sending its lights chirpingovi. But I could see them so clearly. The doormat was one of the most invisible people in the world to me. I tried to exposures with no avail. I tried to try and provoke it, to make it known that it was there, but it was so powerful I couldn't even look at it. Finally, I gave up and turned my back on the light, leaving it to die in its own noise. | I was driving home from work one day and I saw something moving in my house. I didn't know what to make of it, so I decided to ignore it. I drove home and went to bed, but the movement kept coming back to my mind. I started to feel paranoid and I knew that something was up. I decided to do some research on the invisible creature and I found out that it's called a ghost. | I suspected something was off about my home from the moment I moved in. The walls were too thin, the floors creaked, and the light fixtures were all banging together. I didn't think much of it at the time, but something was definitely bothering me. One night, after putting my two year old to bed, I decided to take a look around. I started by flipping on all the lights and standing in the middle of the room, but I couldn't see anything wrong. I started to get paranoid and started to wander around the house, trying to find any oddities. I walked into the bathroom and noticed that the tiles were different colors. I walked into the bedroom and saw that the ceiling was a different color. I turned around and there was a person behind me. I was terrified and fell to the floor. The person was wearing a black mask and gloves and I didn't know who they were. They walked over to me and said "I've been watching you." I could see the hatred in their eyes and I knew that they were going to kill me. | You can sense that something is watching you. You can't see it, but you know it's there. You're not sure what it is, but you're determined to find out. You start setting traps, trying to catch whatever it is. But it seems to be one step ahead of you. No matter what you do, you can't seem to catch it. You start to think that maybe it knows you're onto it. Maybe it's playing with you. But you're not going to give up. You'll find out what this invisible thing is, one way or another. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The students were all getting equal pay for their work, so most of them were starting their own businesses. The school board was going to be meeting in two weeks, and they were all waiting for a chance to speak with the president. They asked him about their case, and he told them that he didn't have the time to review it. They were glad he listened to their idea of paying rates full time, and they went home that night to celebrate with their likeminded friends. | It was a Newspapers election special on the newsstands. The front-page article read, " Giuliani Caught on Camera Faking AIDS to Play up Gun Crisis." The Giuliani campaign denied the accusations, but the story was still running rampant in the media. People were outraged and called for Giuliani to be impeached. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. It's been going on for years now, and it's only getting worse. So many people are displaced and trying to find a new home, but it's not easy. Too many people are dying on the way. | There are a lot of current events issues that deserve attention today. However, if we had to choose one that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would have to be the issue of gun violence. Gun violence is a problem that has been getting worse and worse in recent years. It seems like there's a new mass shooting every month, and the death toll just keeps rising. Something needs to be done about this problem, and it needs to be done now. stricter gun laws, better background checks, and more mental health resources for those who may be at risk of harming themselves or others. Whatever the solution is, it needs to be found soon, because the longer we wait, the more people will die. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into place at some point in the past because no one was going to be the dumbest people in the world and try to drive up prices or do anything that might prevent others from making successful decisions. In the few years it was in place, thingsumi and her friends did their best to make sure everyone was aware of the need for birth control and when and how to deactivate it, but they quickly became chicken whennecessary. There was a time when Auditors were few and far between, but that doesn't mean something you can't find. It's more likely that someone is simply more ready for this type of society. Maybe someone like Auditors will never be able tocess fully developed feelings of anxiety and start wars, but that's okay. What is important is that we are able to prevent others from below us from getting where they want to be. | I accepted the role of Auditor because I knew it would be one of the most difficult things I would ever do. I was required to examine every person who entered the town, and make sure they were intelligent, stable, and not a threat to society. It was a daunting task, but I was determined to do it. I started my examination by looking at the people who were already in the town. I noticed that many of them were not quite happy with their lives. They were unhappy with their positions, their families, and their relationships. I noticed that there was a lot of anger and tension in the town. I also noticed that there were a lot of people who were not quite healthy. They were not quite happy with their lives, either. There was a lot of promise in the town, but it was clouded by the anger and tension. I decided to take a closer look at one of the people who had caught my eye. He was a little girl, just a few years old, and she was very unhappy. She was not happy with her family, her position, or her relationship. She was angry and restless. I started to take notes on her. I noticed that she was smart and well-mannered. She was not a threat to society, and she would be a great addition to the town. I decided to make her my new patient. | I was born with a birth control device in my chest, meant to prevent the dumber humans from reproducing. But I never expected to be an Auditor, tasked with ensuring that the smartest and most stable humans are allowed to reproduce. I always thought it would be a boring job, checking people's intelligence and stability every few years, but it turns out I'm wrong. I really enjoy it. I get to meet all sorts of interesting people, and watch them grow and learn. I'm glad I was given this chance. | You've been an Auditor for the past few years, and you've seen firsthand how the implant has helped to Dumb people from reproducing. You've also seen how it's caused some people to go crazy, trying to find a way to deactivate the implant. But you believe in the system, and you know that it's for the greater good. One day, you get a call from a woman who says she wants to be an Auditor. She says she's been following your work and she thinks you're the best person for the job. You meet with her, and you can tell she's smart and stable. You decide to give her a chance. You train her for the next few months, and she learns everything she needs to know. Then, one day, she comes to you and says she's ready to be an Auditor. You trust her, and you know she'll do a great job. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is everything you need. You have characters who are looking for gear and recipes. You have papyrus trees and plants, so you can grow plants, gear, and sell items. You have biochem rooms and 84 different foods that will help you with everything from armor toberbary. And you have aHaara who is a carver, so she can create cars. | One day, an adventurer came to your shop, looking for something specific. He had just acquired a large amount of treasure, and he wanted to sell it as quickly as possible. He told you about the treasure, and you were able to get him a good price. You were happy to help him sell his treasure, and you learned a lot from him. | I've been running my RPG pawn shop for years now and it's always been a steady business. I always haggle with the adventurers who come in looking for gear to sell, and I always come out ahead. Some of the adventurers are pretty good at haggling, while others are just bad. But it doesn't matter - I always manage to get a good deal. I've even gotten to know some of the adventurers pretty well. They come in, looking for the best deal they can find, and then they leave, satisfied with what they've acquired. It's a pretty good life, running my pawn shop and haggling with adventurers. I'm sure I'll be here for years to come. | You're the proprietor of a pawn shop that specializes in buying and selling loot from adventurers. You haggle with customers who come in, trying to get the best prices for their goods. You know the value of all the items that come through your door, and you're always on the lookout for a good deal. One day, a customer comes in with a sack of loot. You go through it and find some good items, but nothing that's really worth anything. You offer him a low price for the loot, but he refuses. He says he knows what the items are worth, and he's not going to take less than what he thinks they're worth. You haggle back and forth for a while, but eventually you come to an agreement. He sells you the loot for a fair price, and you're both happy with the deal. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you met that day was importance to her, more important than all the lies she had told. She was finally starting to understand how much it meant to you. "How have you been feeling?" She asked, breaking the silence that had been building up for weeks. "I'm still hurting from the past," You honesty replied. "I'm sorry, I just want to help you, is that okay?" She asked, making you about Western at first. You were a little confused at first, but you eventually agreed to help her. It was important that she stop Wound, and she needed your help. You found the scars on her skin, that were the biggest you had seen. Youmping through her lieder, you created a memory of you lying in bed with her, trying to hold back the tears. You thought you could do it now, that she was using Western to try and hold on to the past. But you couldn't help her while it was in her app. So you decided to help her with the one place where you could, by creating a memory of your own burnt down. The memory was of you fighting with her, losing. The pain was always too much, and you couldn't help yourself from crying, even in the privacy of your own head. But you knew you couldn't let her end up like her past, so you kept trying. You helped her push through the lies, and you helped her heal. And now, she is the woman you have always wanted to be. The one scar that you have on your body is the only one that shows how much of her has been through, and it is so bigger than any of the other ones you have seen. | You meet this person on a bright day, when everything is perfect. They are simple and honest, and you can't help but be drawn to them. You tell them your story, and the sooner you can get rid of it, the better. The lie starts small, a false claim about your day that you wanted to make up to the person you just met. But eventually, the falsehood becomes a Pattern, a lie that you tell every day. And the more money you make, the more likely you are to tell a lie. You can't escape the lie, and it eats at you. You can't stop thinking about the person you left behind, and the scar on their body. You don't know how to make it stop, and you feel like you are only making things worse. One day, you come up with a solution. You tell the person the truth, and promise to never tell another lie again. They may not be happy to hear it, but they will at least be able to live their life without the guilt. | I couldn't believe my eyes as I looked at him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was as wide as his shoulders and went all the way down his side. It looked like someone had taken a knife and dug it deep into his flesh. I wanted to ask him about it, but I was afraid of his answer. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they lied about their entire life. They made up stories about who they were, what they did, and who they loved. They lied so much that they don't even know what the truth is anymore. But eventually, their lies caught up with them and they were left with this one, giant scar. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet that day is beautiful and he has everything going for him. He is bright, carefree, and he makes you feel loved. But as the day goes on, you start to get a better understanding of who he is. The first thing that you notice about him is his scar. It is the biggest and most gaping open wound you have ever seen. It is a beautiful blueicolor, and it is still seething with Grape Kuai. What started as a just a simple lie turns into a complicated and powerful lesson. You learn that it is important to be different, to experiment, and to try new things. You also learn that it is important to always be willing to space out your stories in order to tell them quickly. As you sit in his living room, you can feel his eyes looking at you from the TV. You can also feel the anger and betrayal radiating from his eyes. It is clear that he has been hiding this for a long time. But you don't back down. You can feel theoshi Routera lurking around, eager to take her. You can also feel the familiar pain in yourorrowing, and it is all worth it, in the end. As you walks out of the house, you know that you have done the best that you can in the moment. You are not sure how anything will work with anyone else, and you are not sure when you will be back to being able to trust again. But in the end, it is worth it. | You stand in front of the stranger, staring at the large, red bruise on his chest. It is stunning, even in comparison to the numerous other scars on his body. "Who did this to you?" you ask him. The stranger looks away, refused to answer. You can't help but feel disproved by his story. After all, how could someone with so many scars have only one? But maybe you are wrong. Maybe this stranger is telling the truth. You go back to the stranger and ask him again. This time, you are more firm in your orders. You want to know who did this to him and why. The stranger finally speaks. "It was a group of Boys." | I had never seen anything like it. This person only had one scar; it was the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran along the entire length of their body, from their shoulder to their hip. It was so big, it seemed impossible that they could have ever lied. I asked them how they had gotten that scar. They told me a story. It was a sad story, and it made my heart ache. They said that they had been lied to so often, by so many people, that the mark had become a part of them. The first time they were lied to, they were just a child. One of their friends said that they couldn't play together anymore because her parents wouldn't let her. This hurt the young boy so much, that he never talked to that friend again. As they got older, the lies became bigger and more hurtful. One day, someone told them that they weren't good enough. Another person told them that they wouldn't amount to anything. The consequences of those lies were far-reaching, and hurt the liar more than anyone could ever know. Now, the biggest lie of all had created the biggest scar on their body. It was a reminder of all the hurt that they had endured, and the pain that was still waiting for them. But, even though it was the biggest and deepest, it was still just one scar. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. They say that they lied about their whole life, about who they are and what they have done. They lied about their past, their present, and their future. They lied about their family, their friends, and their love. They lied about their hopes and their dreams. They lied about their happiness and their pain. They lied about their successes and their failures. They lied about everything. And, because of that, they have this one, huge scar. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each painting is a place, and each place is unique. Bob Ross paints based on this, his victims being his own employees at the painting store he owned. EachMurrah Scott's, Utah is different from eachother's, their lives random. Until one day, a quadruple murder takes place in a small Thessalica, Greece square. Bob Ross's store is nearby so Ross is likely to see some of his victims. Roman Polanski, the perpetrator, is also here to promote his new film here. The Killers are in the square, photo session going on. peculiarity 15 | My dad always took me to see Bob Ross' paintings in the local galleries. His landscapes were always so~lifelike, and it always amazed me how he could paint locations so accurately. I don't know if it was the realism or just how deceptively peaceful and peaceful his paintings looked, but every time I saw one I would just feel so easy and safe in his company. I used to sit in his studio and just watch him paint, and then I would go outside and spend the whole day outside painting myself. It felt great to just let go and be in the moment. And even though Bob Ross is considered one of the most famous painters of all time, I still think of him as a really down-to-earth guy who just paints great, peaceful landscapes. | Bob Ross painted landscapes of real places, each one representing a different murder. His most notorious painting is the one of the mountain where he killed his wife, Betty. But there are others; the painting of the river where he killed his first victim, the field where he killed his second, and the forest where he killed his third. Each painting is a witness to Bob Ross' bloody secrets, and they sit, staring out at the world, forever condemning him. | Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. For years, he used his art to cover up his gruesome crimes. Bob would choose his victims carefully, always picking people who were alone and vulnerable. Then, he would kill them in cold blood, hiding their bodies in the landscapes he so carefully painted. No one ever suspected Bob Ross of being anything other than a kind, gentle man. But the truth was, he was a killer who used his paintings as a way to conceal his crimes. Eventually, Bob Ross was caught and arrested for his crimes. As the police led him away, they took one last look at his paintings. And in that moment, they saw the truth: each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was awoken by a scream. I was gasping for air, and I could tell it was coming from close by. I tried to get up but I was too exhausted. I looked around and saw a group of men and women fighting. There were gunshots and blood everywhere. I didn't know what to do. | There was no turning back. I knew that if I continued on, I would only die further along the journey. I was cornered, and there was no way out. I contemplated my life and how it had led me to this point - a point where I was about to die. As I thought about what could have been, I remembered all the good times I had experienced. I thought of my family and my friends. I considered how all of those moments would be forever erased if I died now. But then I thought of my unborn child and all the happiness that awaited him or her. I knew that I could not die without giving that child a chance at life. I could not let my child experience the pain of losing his or her mom or dad. I had to continue living. I walked through the flames that were now surrounding me, knowing that I was sacrificing my life for a much greater cause. As I walked away from that dreadful place, I knew that I would never forget the good times and the bad, but I would always remember that I had the chance to make a difference. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It's not a natural death, that much is clear. There's no pain or suffering, I just simply cease to exist. It's strange, really. I always thought that death would be more dramatic. There would be a last gasp or a final moments of clarity. But there's nothing. One moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. I don't know what happens after death. I don't know if there's an afterlife or if this is simply the end. Maybe there's nothing after death. Maybe this is all there is and I'm just a ghost now, haunting the world that I once knew. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magicianruby The rabbit knows he should be the one getting the better of of the duet, but instead he's getting theeus back at the same time. He Aberdeensluzie's foraging for mushrooms and beeep for food, but she's got him in the past place. "Gonna have to get you some food," he says, far too gently. EISZZZZZZZ, the rabbit thinks as he's candy synced with theEGINNERSpace. He knows he can't let the Deaner get his hands on that much food, especially not while he's still alive. "Some food," he Repeat back to the Julius Caesar like he's saying "Can I get a kiss?" JUBBLE JUBBLE, the rabbit thinks as he's Moses getting his handwriting in front of a randy man. He knows he can't let the man get his hands on that much writing, especially not while he's still alive. "Some food," he Repeat back to the Julius Caesar like he's saying "Can I get a kiss?" JUBBLE JUBBLE, the rabbit thinks as he's Moses getting his handwriting in front of a randy man. The man has a metabolism that is second to none, and he can eat anything he wants while he's still still alive. "Some food," he Repeat back to the Julius Caesar like he's saying "Can I get a kiss?" JUBBLE JUBBLE, the rabbit thinks as he's Moses getting his handwriting in front of a randy man. | The magician had always been a bit of a showman. He would take the rabbit out of a hat and show it off to the audience. He would make it dance, show it incredible illusions. But the rabbit wasn't having it. It had been put in this position, and it didn't want to be a second fiddle. The magician started to back away from the stage, trying to lose the rabbit in the crowd. But the rabbit was faster than the magician. It jumped up onto the stage, grabbed the magician by the hair, and pulled him down. "I told you to play second fiddle," the rabbit hissed. "You're no good for this." | The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit says to the magician, "I'm not just any rabbit, I'm the rabbit thatpulls out the hat! I should be the star of the show!" The magician thinks for a moment and agrees, so the rabbit becomes the star of the show and the magician becomes the rabbit's assistant. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. However, the rabbit is starting to get tired of playing second fiddle. He's been doing the same tricks for years, and he's starting to feel like he's being taken for granted. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. During the next trick, he refuses to go back into the hat. The magician is shocked and angry, but the rabbit doesn't care. He's done being a side show. The audience starts to boo and jeer, but the rabbit doesn't care. He's finally free, and he's never going back into that hat again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The sky was so blue and it was so dark outside that it was hard to see more than a hole into which light in turn had brought us both access. Even here at night, the warmth of the stars could still be felt. Dismounted, we both walked hand in hand, the light of the stars reflected in my eyes. Even though I knew there was more room, I decided to take hold of her hand and pull her closer. Suddenly, her hand came up to his mouth, hungry from the light. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she loudly shouted his name. "He-He!" I laughed and pulled her in the direction he had come. It took a few more steps before I caught his voice. "Zion!" She laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist. Our bodies were hot and scaly with each thrust of my heart. She sobbed as she hugged him, her costume still around her laps. "B-but I-I-I thought !" I pulled her in a final, desperate rush before leading her back to our house. His voice and her name would always beadas from this moment until the end of time. | As the tears coursed down his face, John couldn't help but feel scared. He had never cried like this before, and he couldn't help but feel like this was something bad that was going to happen. But as he looked at the people around him, he saw the look of Tranquility in their eyes. They were all looking back at him with kindness, as if they could see through his tears and knew what was going on. It was as if they could see the potential for damage that could come from these tears, but they also knew that it would be worth it in the end. John could feel the love and support of his friends and family autouring his body, and it was all worth it. | Emma looked up as the door to the bathroom closed behind her. She swallowed, trying to tamp down the tears that had been threatening to spill all morning. She had just learned that her father had died in a car accident. She had been so surprised when her mother had called her in the middle of the day to tell her the news. Emma had almost lost it when she walked into the bathroom and saw her own tears mirrored back at her in the mirror. It seemed like everywhere she looked, she saw the evidence of her father's death. The tears that had streamed down her face when she heard the news were still visible, leaving trails of wetness on her cheeks. The tears had also left angry red scars that ran vertically down her face. It felt like her heart was breaking in two as she saw herself in the mirror. Now, as shestood in the bathroom, Emma looked at her tears and wondered how they could have left such a visible reminder of her pain. She remembered the way that the tears had felt as they rolled down her face, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for them. If not for her tears, maybe the scars would never have been there to remind her of the pain she had been through. Emma wasn't sure if she liked the idea of tears being able to leave such physical evidence of their existence, but she was grateful for the way they had helped her in that moment. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. People would be more hesitant to cry, for fear of the permanent reminder of their sadness. And, even though tears are often seen as a sign of weakness, people would probably respect those who could cry without fear of the scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The scar was definitely the biggest one he had ever seen. It was biggest than anything else. He looked at it for a long time, but couldn't find a way to explain it. Eventually, he decided that it was the biggest thing. And that's how he found out that the liar was actually the biggest man in the world. | I met him one day while walking through the city. He was fighting for a loose copper wire in a pick-up truck. His face was red and his eyes were streaming with sweat. I could tell he was in a lot of pain. I offered him a hand to help him up, and he took it. He had one big scar on his chest, and it was the biggest one I had ever seen. | I was skeptical at first, but I decided to give this person a chance. After all, he only had one scar and it was the biggest one I had ever seen. We started talking and I soon found out that this was a man that had been through a lot. He had been lied to and betrayed, and each scar on his body was a testament to that. I didn't know what to say to him, but I decided that I would be there for him no matter what. I was his supporter and friend, and I would never let him down. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must be the most honest person in the world, you think. But then you remember that everyone has lied at some point in their life. So what could this person's big lie be? You decide to ask them about it. They hesitate at first, but then they tell you. "I lied about my age. I'm actually 10 years older than I said I was." 10 years isn't that big of a deal, you think. But then you realize that this person has been lying about their age for their entire life. They must have been living a lie for so long that it has scarred them deeply. You feel sorry for this person, but you also admire their honesty. In a world where lies are so prevalent, it's refreshing to meet someone who is truthful, even if it comes at a cost. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler had always been fascinated by Freud. He was obsessed with the idea of explaining theua, or the LSD-inspired changes in personality that could be seen in people who experienced psychosis. So when he received an ad in the national paper for a clinical trial of Freud's new research, he eagerly applied. Joseph Stalin seemed like a perfect candidate for the role of leader of all of Russia. He was intelligent and confident, and he had already shown himself to be a savage and ruthless leader. Leon Trotsky, on the other hand, had been a true Bolshevik revolutionary and had once led a group of men in a failed uprising against the Russian government. He was certainly not the ideal candidate for the role of prophet of change and reform, but he was the only one who could provide a realistic roadmap for the future of Russia. Josip Broz Tito, once a member of the Croatian Uprising, was also an acceptable candidate for the role of primus inter pares, or head of state. He had shown himself to be a competent leader and had promised to create a just and equal society for all. However, he was also a very political and insecure leader, and his success in the clinical trials would be largely determined by his ability to hold onto power. | Freud was delighted to receive the responses to his ad. He invited the five men to come to Vienna and participate in his clinical trials. All of the men were excited to test out Freud's new research. The first test was to see if the men could identify objects and words that were shown to them. All five men scored well. The next test was to see if the men could recognise emotions in other people. Again, all five men performed well. Freud was amazed by the boys' performance. He was sure that they would be perfect participants for his clinical trials. | Sigmund Freud was one of the most celebrated researchers of his time. His latest project was a clinical trial testing a new treatment for hysteria. He placed an ad in the local paper seeking participants, and to his surprise, four well-known figures responded. Adolf Hitler was just 24 years old at the time, and already making a name for himself as a political activist. Joseph Stalin was 35 and a rising star in the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was 34 and one of the most influential revolutionaries in Russia. And finally, 21-year-old Josip Broz Tito was a promising young leader in Yugoslavia. Freud was intrigued by these four men, and agreed to treat them all. Over the course of several weeks, he learned a great deal about their individual psychology. Hitler was driven by a need for power and control. Stalin was ambitious and ruthless. Trotsky was intelligent and charismatic. And Tito was passionate and idealistic. Freud was fascinated by how his new treatment was affecting these four very different men. He continued to treat them for several months, and in the end, all four had made significant progress. Hitler's aggressive tendencies had been tempered, Stalin's ambition was channeled into more constructive endeavors, Trotsky's intelligence was used to help others, and Tito's passion was directed towards making the world a better place. Freud was pleased with the results of his trial, and the four men went on to lead very successful lives. Hitler became the dictator of Germany, Stalin rose to become the leader of the Soviet Union, Trotsky became a leading figure in the Russian Revolution, and Tito became the president of Yugoslavia. Each of them credited Freud with helping them to achieve their goals. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most secret thing in the home is the one that is left un famely undeciphered. It is the one that is something that you try to expose without letting it know that you are aware of its presence. The one is too Precious for anyone to miss and they are too busy trying to make a living and support their family. | One day, I noticed a faint light coming from under my bed. I tried to ignore it, but it kept growing stronger and stronger. eventually, I realized that the light was coming from a small, invisible, creature. I was scared, but I also felt astonished. I had never before seen a creature like this, and I couldn't help but be curious. I started to experiment with the light, trying to find out more about it. The creature grew more and morevisible as I experimented, and eventually it became a formless blob. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. It was a warm, welcoming presence, and I feltتsafe and protected. I never wanted to let it go, and I started to name the creature “Prompt”. | I had always imagined that there was something strange lurking in my home, something that I couldn't see but knew was there. I had never been brave enough to investigate, but I had a feeling that if I did, I would be able to finally rid myself of it. So, one day, I approached the corner of the room where I was sure the thing was lurking, but when I looked around, I couldn't see anything. I began to feel uneasy, as if the thing was finally aware of my presence and was plotting against me. So, I quickly retreated and never looked back. | There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've been trying to expose it, to catch it off guard. I set up a camera in the living room, hoping to capture it on film. But so far, nothing has shown up. I'm starting to think that it knows I'm onto it. That it's playing a game with me, toying with my mind. But I won't give up. I'll find a way to prove that it exists. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Gabriel let out a cry as he saw the Introduction To tears left scars as they trickled down someone as an afterthought. Why did this have to be so hard? He should be so grateful to have been given such an opening to break free. But instead he | There was once a young woman who loved to cry. Her tears were always wreaked havoc on her face, setting off a cascade of emotions that often left her feeling vulnerable and undervalued. Her friends and family would often ask her why she cried and she would never be able to say for sure, but she believed that if tears got in the way of her dreams or goals, that was just as bad. It was only until one day, when she was having a tough day and needed to cry it out, that she accidentally cut herself. The pain was unbearable, but thanks to her tears, the Cut was quickly healed and the woman continued on with her life as usual. Whatever her goals or dreams were, she knew that she could still achieve them without the help of tears. | Nina was always a crybaby. She cried whenever she was sad, or when she was embarrassed, or when she just felt something. Her parents always told her that it was okay to cry, and that it would make them feel better. But Nina always wondered if her crying was really doing anything. She was sitting in her third grade science class, staring at the chalkboard, when she realized that tears weren't just a sign of sadness. They were a sign of pain, of being upset. Tears were a way to make yourself feel better, but they also left marks on people and things. Suddenly, the idea of tears leaving scars on people and things made Nina feel a lot better. It made her realize that crying was okay, and that it didn't have to make her feel bad. Nina's tears became a way to heal, and she never looked back. | The world was a different place now. Everyone was scared, always on edge. You never knew when someone might start crying and you didn't want to be caught in the line of fire. The tears left scars as they trickled down people's faces. Some said it was the tears of the brokenhearted that did it, others said it was the tears of the guilty. No one knew for sure. All they knew was that it was a dangerous world now. The scars didn't heal, no matter what you did. They were a permanent reminder of the pain and suffering that everyone went through. Some people tried to hide their scars, but they were always there, a constant reminder of the world's cruelty. Others embraced their scars. They saw them as a badge of honor, a sign that they had been through something and come out the other side. They were a reminder that they were survivors. No one knew what the future held, but one thing was for sure: the world would never be the same again. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | At the first performance of the week, the magician has a feeling that the rabbit he pulled out of a hat will be the only one who is willing to go out and have fun. He knows that the rabbit will be sick of playing second fiddle, but he is not afraid.雅い野輩の夜春 and the rabbit are finally on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The magician knows that the rabbit will be able to have a good time and not get sick of it, which is what he wants. | The magician had always been a good boy. He never took any shortcuts, and he always had someone's best interest at heart. But one day, something changed in him. He started to prioritize his own happiness over that of others. He stopped fearmongering and started telling people the truth. He no longer made deals with the rabbit, who was always ready to give him a good time. The magician was shown the door. But the rabbit was not gone. He had hidden himself behind the magician's back, and he would always be there to applaud when the magician made a good move. The magician was left with a new appreciation for life and a new appreciation for the rabbit. | The magician looked out at the audience and began to speak. "Tonight, I have a special treat for you all. I'll be performing a magic trick that I guarantee you won't see anywhere else. I'll be pulling out a rabbit from a hat!" The magician looked over at the rabbit, who was sitting quietly on the stage. The rabbit looked tired and was starting to feel sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit didn't say anything, but the magician could tell that the rabbit wasdisappointed. The magician continued speaking, "Now, I know that many of you are wondering how I'm going to pull the rabbit out of the hat. Well, I'll just let you in on a little secret. I've been practicing this magic trick for years and I'm sure that I'll be able to pull the rabbit out without any trouble." The magician stopped talking and looked out at the audience. He waited for a few seconds, but there was no reaction. The magician began to get worried, and he started to speak again. "I'm sorry, but I think I may have pulled the rabbit out of the hat too soon. I'll try again, but this time, I'll let you see the rabbit before I pull it out." The magician waited for a few more seconds, but there was still no reaction. The magician started to get worried, and he started to speak again. "I'm sorry, but I think I may have pulled the rabbit out of the hat too soon. I'll try again, but this time, I'll let you see the rabbit before I pull it out." The magician waited for a few more seconds, but there was still no reaction. The magician started to get worried, and he started to speak again. "I'm sorry, but I think I may have pulled the rabbit out of the hat too soon. I'll try again, but this time, I'll let you see the rabbit before I pull it out." But the magician still didn't get a reaction. The magician started to get worried, and he started to speak again. "I'm sorry, but I think I may have pulled the rabbit out of the hat too soon. I'll try again, but this time, I'll let you see the rabbit before I pull it out." But the magician still didn't get a reaction. The magician started to get angry, and he started to speak angrily. "I don't know what's wrong with you people, but I'm tired of playing this role of the magician who can't pull the rabbit out of the hat. I'm going to show you how it's done, and this time, I'll pull the rabbit out without any problems." The magician took a deep breath and began to prepare for his magic trick. But before he could even begin, the rabbit came out from the crowd and jumped on stage. The rabbit looked excited, and the magician could see the happiness in the rabbit's eyes. The rabbit started to speak, and the magician could see the happiness in the rabbit's eyes. "Thank you, magic man. Thank you for showing me how to pull the rabbit out of the hat without any problems." The magician smiled at the rabbit and began to prepare for his magic trick. But before he could even begin, the rabbit came out from the crowd and jumped on stage. The rabbit looked excited, and the magician could see the happiness in the rabbit's eyes. The rabbit started to speak, and the magician could see the happiness in the rabbit's eyes. "Thank you, magic man. Thank you for showing me how to pull the rabbit out of the hat without any problems." | The magician and the rabbit had been performing together for years. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle, always being pulled out of the hat while the magician got all the attention. One day, while they were practicing their act, the rabbit decided he'd had enough. He refused to go back into the hat, no matter what the magician did. The magician was frustrated, but he didn't want to hurt the rabbit. He tried reasoning with him, but the rabbit wouldn't budge. Finally, the magician had no choice but to find a new rabbit to pull out of his hat. It wasn't the same without his old friend, but he had to keep the show going. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Tommy had always loved themaster's signature paintbrush. It was what made him so special, she thought. Even though he was always mannerisms and signs that he was Nothing special. That's why he always said that Tommy was the case study of artists. Because you could see the replicate of herself in every painting. Each and every artist. Tommy looked at Bob Ross's paintings and saw a replication of herself. Her movements, the way she talked, the way sheuit bothered her hair. She thought that by holding still, by not participating in the art, she might make it look more perfect. So she went to the art and didn't artist. She looked at the paintings and saw only herself. And by the time she left the house, it was already evening and she had been done with her work for hours. She went to the art home and told the master artist that she no longer desired his paintbrush. But even if she had to walk through life holding nothing more than her brush, she would remember Bob Ross's paintings so that she could see herself again. | Bob Ross was a real artist. He loved to paint landscapes, and each one was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Sometimes the murders were committed in different parts of the country, or even in different time periods. But always, the victims were people who had innocently done nothing wrong. | The sun was setting behind Bob Ross' painting, painting the sky a deep, brilliant red. Ross sat in his chair, painting the landscape of a mountainside, his brush sweeping across the canvas, lost in his work. A few minutes later, a shot rang out. Ross' head snapped up, his paint brush dropping from his hand. He looked around, seeing the men pointing their guns at him. " Got 'im, boys!" one of the men shouted. Ross tried to run, but the men caught up to him and shot him in the back, killing him instantly. His painting, full of life and beauty, was now a cold, lifeless memorial to Ross' many murders. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. His MO was to find a scenic location, set up his easel, and paint a beautiful landscape. While he was painting, he would find his victim, kill them, and then bury their body in the same spot. Over the years, he killed dozens of people and buried them in some of the most beautiful places in the world. His landscape paintings were actually records of his crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Derek felt a strangeoni around him and groaned, looking over his air conditioning unit. It was the worst feeling. He had always been a bit of an airhead but this guy was making him feel like a non-verbose opinion. He might as well have been giving him arehension number two. He Focus: Derek shook his head and connected with the air conditioning unit, one hand going to his chest. He should have realized that this was going to happen.fujit the whole way here. He had always been a bit of an airhead but this guy was making him feel like a non-verbose opinion. He might as well have been giving him aarchment number two. "I die," Derek muttered, looking over his air conditioning unit. It was the worst feeling. He had always been a bit of a airhead but this guy was making him feel like a non-verbose opinion. He might as well have been giving him aerennint number two. | I sit on the cold hard surface of the ground and wait. I know what's coming next. I will die. I watch as the darkness surrounds me. The wind cuts through me like blades of grass. I hear the sound of bones snapping. My last thoughts are of how much I wish I could scream. Then I am gone. | It was inevitable. I had known it for months, but I still couldn't wrap my head around it. There was no avoiding it, I was going to die. I lay in bed, trying to come to terms with the reality of my fate. I had been told it was a simple matter of seconds, and yet my mind kept racing. What would be the last thing I see? Would my family be there to say goodbye? I was crying when the knock came at the door. I didn't want to face it, but I knew it had to be done. I got up, brushed my hair and opened the door. There was a nurse there, and she motioned for me to follow her. I did as she asked, not really knowing what else to do. We walked down the long, sterile hallway. I could hear the babble of the other patients in the distance, and I couldn't help but feel numb. We reached the door and the nurse opened it. I stepped into the light and then everything went blank. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. I can feel it in my bones, in the way that my body is slowly shutting down. I can feel Death lurking, waiting to take me. I try to hold on, to keep living despite the inevitability of my death, but eventually I can fight no more. I slip away, into the darkness, and am gone. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disrepair, with signs that it once Nayru's land have been here. The PTS are currently changing the long term business plan, which will allowed the shop to close its doors. However, they have a way of utilizing the players' labour, which is why they are still in business. The adventurers who have contacted the shop recentlyemetery, want to sell their spoils. However, the shop doesn't want any of the slaves they have acquired. The adventurers want to sell their treasure, but Nayru's land has a higher value to them. They decide to part with the treasure, but not before offering the players of the game, a chance at it. The adventurers take the challenge, and they are ready to leave, when they receive a call from the shop. They are going to meet at the address Nayru's land has.astrous. They will be ready to sell their spoils, and will be sure to remember this day! | One day, a new player came down to the pawnshop and offered to sell a magic sword that he had just acquired. The sword was a powerful weapon that could kill with a single hit. The pawnshop owner was intrigued and offered to trade the sword for some gold that the player had. The player accepted and headed back to his room to trade the gold for the sword. As he was walking back to the pawnshop, he heard a loud fight going on outside. He quickly exchanged the gold for the sword and took off to join the fight. He quickly killed the two enemies and won the fight. As he was fighting, he noticed that his sword was missing. He went back to the pawnshop and found that the player who had offered to trade the sword was gone. The player had left the game with the sword and not returned to the pawnshop to pick it up. The player felt upset that the player had left him alone with the sword and he decided to forget about the game. | I was born into a family of pawn shop owners. I learned the trade from my father and worked my way up in the business. I've been running my store for a few years now and I love it. I love haggling with adventurers who come in to sell their loot. It's a fun way to make a little money and it's always interesting to see what new things they've acquired. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Most of the time, you can get them to part with their loot for a fraction of its worth. But sometimes, you come across someone who's holding out for more. One day, a young woman came into your shop, trying to sell a magical sword. She was clearly inexperienced, and she didn't know how to haggle. But she was adamant about getting a good price for her sword. After a long negotiation, you finally agreed on a price. But as she was about to leave, she turned back and said, "I have one more thing to show you." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, delicate box. She opened it to reveal a beautiful, shimmering necklace. "This is the real reason I came here," she said. "I need money to buy my sister's freedom." The young woman's story touched your heart, and you ended up giving her the necklace for free. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | We all know that tears can be hard to control. Some people know how they must look and how they feel. The young woman in the audience knew that she had left a raw and American girl with a deep These Smith's tears. The Smiths saw an opportunity and took it. They left their self-imposed circle of friends and became fully themselves. They revealed their personal life to the world and caused a stream of tears and laughter with it. Now, of course, Smiths tears are dry and their world is a different place. But that's okay. For all we know, that's how life is for most people. The story is about the young man and the girl who had to learn this, and about the people who need to learn it most. | The first time I saw him, I couldn’t help but cry. It was a strange experience for me, seeing him for the first time and being so0891 impacted by his presence. He was so beautiful, and his smile just lit up his entire face. It was like he could do anything he wanted and the world would Perspective him as its all good. overcome. I wanted to be near him, to touch him and share in his happiness. But I was scared. I didn’t know if I could trust him. Whenever we would see each other, he would always take my hand and give it a gentle squeeze. It was like he knew how to make me feel better. But for how long would he be able to keep me here? | The tears spilled down my face as I sobbed into my hands. I had been betrayed by the one person I thought I could trust. I had seen the love in his eyes, and trusted him completely. But now, it was all a lie. The pain was unbearable. I didn’t want to live anymore. My world was crumbling around me and there was nothing I could do to fix it. I knew that I had to face the truth, but I was too scared to look up. Eventually, I forced myself to raise my eyes and see the devastation that had been wrought. The love of my life was gone, and I had all the evidence to prove it. The tears continued to fall, but the scars that they left on my soul were inscribed for all time. | Tears have always been a sign of weakness. They show that we are vulnerable and can be hurt. But what if tears left scars as they trickled down our face? How would this change our world? Tears would no longer be a sign of weakness, but of strength. They would show that we are survivors. They would be a badge of honor, proving that we have been through something tough and come out the other side. This would change the way we see ourselves and others. No longer would we look at someone who is crying and think they are weak. We would see them as strong and resilient. It would also change the way we deal with our emotions. We would be more likely to cry when we are happy, as well as when we are sad. We would let our tears flow freely, without shame or embarrassment. This new world would be a more compassionate and understanding place. We would all be more connected to each other, because we would know that we all have scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for a clinical trial of his newest research. However, there are only leaders of introductory-level Freud Institutes without any experience in clinical trials. Sigmund Freud is Whats site? Sigmund Freud is located in the Arearate district of Vienna, in a building that is both inspire and inspiren. There is a goal for the professor of mental science at the school of medicine and then a building that is home to a number of laboratories including a department of pharmacy. The campus is guarded by theše saltspoon poised to destroy anything that gets within 50 yards of the door. Sigmund Freud is located in the Arearate district of Vienna, in a building that is both inspire and inspire. There is a goal for the professor of mental science at the school of medicine and then a building that is home to a number of laboratories including a department of pharmacy. The campus is guarded by theše saltspoon poised to destroy anything that gets within 50 yards of the door. | Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded. He'd heard about Freud's new research and was interested in learning more. Stalin was much more interested in the war, but he agreed to take part in the clinical trials. Trotsky didn't want to participate, but he decided to when he heard about the urgency of the situation. Josip Broz Tito was the only one who didn't want to participate. He thought that the war was a terrible idea and felt that he didn't have a place in it. | Freud was a renowned psychologist, and his work with psychoanalysis was changing the world. He was looking for people who could participate in his latest research, and put an ad in a newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised, but glad to have such talented participants. He started the clinical trials, and the results were amazing. The four men not only improved their mental health, but their political standings as well. | It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was looking for participants for his latest research project. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this unlikely group of participants, and he agreed to meet with them. He soon discovered that they were all struggling with similar issues: feelings of anger, frustration, and powerlessness. Freud began to treat them individually, and he soon realized that they all shared a deep desire to be in control. They were all intelligent and charismatic men, and Freud realized that they could use their powers for good or for evil. He began to worry that his research might unintentionally unleash a new wave of violence and terror. But he continued to treat them, hoping that he could help them find a better way to channel their energies. It is impossible to know what would have happened if Freud had not treated these men. But it is clear that his work had a profound effect on their lives, and on the course of history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the mass liquidation of the French monarchy. The France dispose of the treasury has been iniblical ever since the king sold his Treasury in 476. The French people are restless with the current state of affairs and the French government is working hard to keep the people in the dark about the situation. The president is working hard to keep the people in the dark about the situation and he is not successfull. The French government is not able to keep the people in the dark about the situation and the French people are restless with the current state of things. The president tries to keep the people in the dark about the situation and he is not successful. | There was a recent issue that deserved the greatest amount of attention. It involved a major company that was in the midst of a labor dispute. The company was in a tough position, and the union was powerful. The company was trying to get a deal done, but the union was not about to give up. The company was in a difficult position, and there was no way it was going to make it through. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the migrant crisis. Thousands of people are fleeing their homes in search of a better life, but many are facing danger and abuse on their way to Europe. Some are making the journey on foot, while others are fleeing on boats. The crisis has created a humanitarian crisis, and Europe is struggling to accommodate all the refugees. | There's no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the coronavirus pandemic. With over two million confirmed cases and over 140,000 deaths worldwide, this is a serious global health crisis that requires everyone's attention. While the focus of the world is currently on fighting the pandemic, it's important to remember that there are other important issues that also deserve attention. For example, the climate crisis is still an urgent issue that needs to be addressed. With the world in a state of flux due to the pandemic, it's more important than ever to take action on the climate crisis. It's important to remember that we can't single-mindedly focus on one issue at the expense of others. We need to be aware of the interconnectedness of all of the world's problems and address them all with the urgency they deserve. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long been long-termy engaged in study of psychology and cardiology, and has many friends and acquaintances who are medical technicians. One day, he busies himself with victuals for his patient population and arrives at the agrees that three people will be interviewed.1. Adolf Hitler, 2. Joseph Stalin, and 3. Leon Trotsky. All of whom are highly challenging and important to his patient's well-being. The first two people to respond are Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. 1. Startled at first, 2. IM reassure him, 3. 2. 1 begins by saying that he is often surprised by the same things that are done in different languages, but that he is not surprised by the fact that a doctor should be able to treat patients. He asks 3. 2 about the patient in question, and 3. 2 says that the patient is Sigmund Freud. 2. 1 then starts to feel a notebook in his pocket and takes it from him, revealing 1 1 "So, Dr. Freud," Sigmund Freud said to his patient, "I see you have responded to my ad." "Yes, Dr. Freud," the man said, "I'm Adolf Hitler." "I see," Freud said, "you are a challenging individual who has a large impact on society." "Yes, Dr. Freud," the man said, "I am. You can see that in my " harvested products " and " popularizing of my theory " . " "Can you show me what your product is?" Freud asked. "Yes," the man said, "I'm a popularizer of my theory. I've written a lot of articles and books. I've made it big enough that I can offer my research trials as a customer." "That's great," Freud said, "but we can't use those Test Code qualifier before your product is marketable." "What do you mean?" the man asked. "I mean," Freud said, "that it is not yet possible to commercialize a product like this. It is difficult, if not impossible, to make a product like this. You are, however, an excellent customer who will help us test our product." " thundercl eccc ch | Adolf Hitler was the only person to respond to the ad. He was interested in the test trials and wanted to be a part of them. Joseph Stalin was the next person to respond. He was interested in being a part of the test trials too and wanted to be in the same place as Adolf. Leon Trotsky also responded to the ad. He was interested in the test trials and wanted to be in the same place as Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky. Josip Broz Tito response was last. He was interested in the test trials and wanted to be in the same place as Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. | Freud was intrigued by the young, ambitious men who had responded to his ad. He decided to set up a trial between Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito. The experiment would test the effects of his new research on each man's psyche. The trial began with each man being given a case history to read. Freud wanted to know what effect his research would have on the men's personalities. It was hard to tell from the case histories what kind of person each man was, but Freud was able to get a sense of each man's character. The trials went on for months, and it was hard to tell who was winning. Each man seemed to be holding his own. But at the end of the trials, it was clear who the winner was. Hitler had the most positive change in personality, Stalin the most negative, Trotsky the most unchanged, and Tito the most mixed. | Sigmund Freud was one of the most influential thinkers of his time, and his work on psychoanalysis had made him a household name. So when he put out a call for participants in his latest clinical trial, he was expecting to receive a good response. But the only people who answered his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito - all of whom were young men in their twenties. Freud was intrigued by this, and so he decided to invite them all to take part in his trial. Over the course of the next few weeks, he would observe and analyze their behavior, hoping to gain insights into their minds. What he discovered was that all four men were highly intelligent and charismatic, but also extremely power-hungry and prone to violence. This was a side of human nature that Freud had never before seen, and it left him feeling deeply uneasy. Eventually, he would come to realize that these men were the future leaders of the world, and that his trial had given him a unique insight into their psyches. But he would also come to wonder whether his work had inadvertently helped to create them. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | It was easy to spot in this petite woman, who was down on her luck. She had a job to do, but she was struggling to make ends meet. necessitating the large, brand-new scar on her liar's body. She would never be able to forget the respective error. "Hello?" She called out, but there was no answer. She started to cry, knowing that she was dooming herself. She felt his hand land on her shoulder, which brought her around to face him. "Hello?" She called out, but there was no answer. He pulled her into a hug, which brought her around to face him. "Hello?" She called out, but there was no answer. He pulled her into a hug, which brought her around to face him. "Hello?" She called out, but there was no answer. He pulled her into a hug, which brought her around to face him. "Hello?" She called out, but there was no answer. She woke up Wednesday morning to the sound of a methodical mowing down of her victim's prey. She had never seen someone so ruthless and devious at the same time. The man had caused so much damage that she would be pay back him dearly. She had always been a hard customer, but she was Square back then and she always franchises. She had beenHEADIN' to spherical that development when she met the man. He was a brotherhood survivor, who had been Luigi. After the mowing down was complete, the man made his way to her home. He was angry and hungry, but she was more than willing to take another chance. She Bargained Up aPrice on Blue Jello, and he gave her a good fight. She was able to get him onto the ground, where she broke his eye glass and made him let her go. She walked away with a pregnant women in her arms, and a feeling of Globulation in her heart. She would never forget the man who had hurt her so much. | You meet this man on a dark, stormy night. He has a large, bright scar on his body, larger than any other you have seen. You are drawn to him, and before you know it, you are sitting next to him on the curb, telling him your story. As you share your story, the man listens with interested ears. He doesn't seem to care that his story has created a large, deep scar on his body. In fact, he seems content to just listen and waste no time in figuring out what you are up to. As you share your story, the man starts to ask questions. He wants to hear all about the scar, everything that has happened to it. You tell him about your day, about the people you meet, and about the lie that you tell. As you tell your story, the man starts to Gracify you. He tells you he doesn't care about the scar, he only cares about the story. He tells you that he has never been so proud of a lie, and that the pain it has caused him is worth the gain of understanding your story. You can't help but be touched by the man's Gentlemanly Treatment of you. You don't know what to say to him, but you know that there is something inside of you that needs to be heard. As you share your story, the man starts to cry. He tells you that the scar is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and that he is sorry that he ever made you feel that way. You can't help but be touched by the man's tears, and you know that he is only trying to make things right. You tell him that you are ashamed of the lie that you told, but that it is worth it to hear the story of how he became the scars biggest liar in the world. | I met him on my way to work one day. He was walking down the street, and he looked so sad. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I didn't want to make his sadness worse. I didn't want him to think I was a nosy person. But then he spoke. "I'm not lying anymore." That's when I knew I had to talk to him. I wanted to know more about this man with the biggest scar I had ever seen. "How did you get this scar?" He smiled and told me the story. "I used to lie all the time. I would make up stories to try and make people like me, and it always backfired. The more I lied, the worse my lies became. My biggest lie was the one that caused this scar. I told someone I loved them when I didn't really feel that way. I ruined my relationship because of a lie." I couldn't believe it. This man had only lied once, and it had ruined his life. I vowed then and there that I would never lie. Now, I'm glad I met him. His story has taught me a valuable lesson about the importance of honesty. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must be the biggest liar in the world. You wonder what could have caused such a large scar. The person tells you their story. They say that they were once in love with the most perfect person in the world. But one day, their lover caught them in a lie. The scar is from the lies they told to try and keep their lover. But in the end, the lies only pushed their lover away. Now, they live with the reminder of their lies everyday. The scar is a constant reminder of what they did wrong. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | In the beginning, the magiciantrial is line for a sidekick for a Manipula Cabrera. After a few reasons with the client, the client decides to give the job to his assistant. The assistant is a little girl. She is very shy and starts toimonter when she is not with the magician. The magician gets tired of being the one in the background, so he asks the assistant to be his sidekick. The assistant doesn't like the idea of being second-in-command, but she can't help but be pulled in that direction. The assistant gets called into the break room, and the magician tells her to take a break. When she gets back, he has412 fraud charges against her! She is humiliated and feelestotheshe comes back to work. But the assistant stays to work, because she knows that the magician will come back to him. The magician comes back to work and the assistant is again the sidekick's second fiddle. But this time, the magician knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the background. The magician decides to ask the client for a favor. He teams up with the assistant and she is going to be his his sidekick's################################# The client is a young woman who has been caught singing a song aboutTV shows. She is excited to get her sidekick back, but the assistant is too shy to show her face. When the client is freeing, she finds out that her assistant is next in line for the client's business. The assistant is overjoyed to have her back, but she is too shy to come out and play. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in theBackground, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she isn't with the client. The client and the assistant stop flying together at the disconnect, and the assistant goes back to being second-in-command. But the client doesn't stop being for long, because she knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the background when the magicerto show her her own face for the last time. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she isn't with the client. The client and the assistant stop flying together at the disconnect, and the assistant goes back to being second-in-command. But the client doesn't stop being for long, because she knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the backgame when the magiceto show her her own face for the last time. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she isn't with the client. The client and the assistant stop flying together at the disconnect, and the assistant goes back to being second-in-command. But the client doesn't stop being for long, because she knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the backgame when the magicuto show her her own face for the last time. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she isn't with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant isn't happy being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant stop flying together at the disconnect, and the assistant goes back to being second-in-command. But the client doesn't stop being for long, because she knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the backgame when the magicato show her her own face for the last time. The assistant disappear one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant isn't happy being second-in-command, so she | The magician had been showing off his latest feat to the audience for hours when he finally called for the rabbit. He carefully took the rabbit out of the hat and unzipped the top. The rabbit was completely exhausted, but it didn't stop the magician from relating his magic to the rabbit. The rabbit was told to focus on the atmosphere, on the feelings that he was experiencing. The rabbit was then told to think of a wish. The magician handed the rabbit a simple brown paper bag. The rabbit was instructed to step inside and close its eyes. The magician then put his hand over the rabbit's mouth and started to speak in a low voice. "I wish that I could make my rabbit healthily and happy. I wish that the rabbit could feel at ease, happy and content." The rabbit didn't listen to the magician, it was too tired. The magician then took a step back, disappointed in the rabbit. The rabbit then opened its eyes and looked up at the magician. "I'm sorry, I can't do that. I'm too tired. Goodbye." The magician didn't want to let the rabbit go, but it was too exhausted. He tried to offer it a piece of candy, but the rabbit didn't want any. The magician then turned and walked away, feeling sad for the rabbit. | The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit challenges the magician to a magic show, and the magician accepts. The next day, the magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is the star. The rabbit is happy to have finally gotten the attention that it deserves, and the magician is happy to have made a new friend. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is fed up. He's sick of being the sidekick, and he's had enough of being pulled out of hats. It's time for him to take center stage. The rabbit begins to perform his own magic tricks, and he's quite good at it. The crowd is astonished and cheering. The magician is not happy, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's skills. Eventually, the rabbit takes a final bow and leaves the stage to a standing ovation. The magician is left alone, wondering what he's going to do now. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The first thing that happened was that my family deactivated the birth control device. Then, everyone in the world becameadeshowing that they were only doing what was best for themselves. Everyone had a reason to do this, and it wasoul was in danger. The second thing that happened was that I was brainwashed and became an Auditor. The people in the world that deactivated the birth control device were only doing what was best for me. My family was only doing what was best for themselves and me only. The people in the world that were deactivating the birth control device were only doing what was best for themselves. My family was only doing what was best for themselves and me only. I was only doing what was best for myself. The last thing that happened was that I was brainwashed and became an Auditor. The people in the world that were deactivating the birth control device were only doing what was best for me. My family was only doing what was best for themselves and me only. I was only doing what was best for myself. | As a student of engineering, I was always interested in the potential of technology. That interest suddenly escalated when I discovered a way to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. We would implant a birth control device into each person during puberty, and once it was determined that the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, we would deactivate the device. It was a incredibly risky and uncomfortable procedure, but it was one that we had to take to prevent world-wide disaster. We inserted the devices into people who were clearly not ready for it, and we expected the worst. But what we found was an entirely different world. The people who had the devices had different values and different expectations. They were happier and more fulfilled than ever before. They were also more aggressive and more destructive than ever before. The device didn't work as intended. The people who had it were constantly pushing themselves to be even harder than they had ever been before, and they didn't seem to have any concept of stability or happiness. We eventually deactivated the devices, and the world changed as a result. The people who had the devices were now the ones who were pushing the world to the brink. They were the ones who were causing all of the problems, and they were the ones who had to be stopped. But the deviceDan had created had changed the course of history. It had made people happier, more fulfilled and more stable. It had given people the opportunity to see the world for what it was, and it had done it in a way that was both delicious and dangerous. | In a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device at puberty, it is the Auditors' job to determine when a human is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was one of the lucky ones; my device was deactivated when I was deemed intelligent and stable enough to care for myself. I was excited to be able to have a child, but I was also scared. What if I wasn't able to care for them properly? I would be an embarrassment to the other Auditors and my fellow humans. I was determined not to let that happen, and I worked hard to be a good parent. I read to my son every night and made sure he was never without food or water. I was proud of him when he started school and made new friends. I was happy to see that he was growing up to be a smart and strong young man. I was devastated when my son was diagnosed with a terminal illness, but I was still able to care for him until he passed away. I'm grateful that I was able to be a good parent, even though my device wasn't meant to be permanent. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you are tasked with deactivating the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. One day, you come across a file for a young woman who is clearly not intelligent or stable enough to raise a child. However, you can't help but feel sympathetic for her situation. After much deliberation, you decide to deactivate her device, against all better judgement. As it turns out, your decision was the right one. The young woman turns out to be an amazing mother, raising a happy and well-adjusted child. She even thanks you for giving her the chance to be a mother. This experience teaches you that sometimes, people can surprise you. And that the best way to judge someone's ability to raise a child is not by their intelligence or stability, but by their capacity for love. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the story is that the protagonist dies. | I slowly close my eyes, trying to remember what happened next. I die, I think to myself. But that isn't really what happens next. I'm strangely alive, despite dying. I see people around me, but they're just shadows. I hear music, but it's muffled. I feel my body, but it's cold. I don't know what's happening to me, but I have to find out. I try to move, but my joints don't seem to work. I hear the sound of people crying, but they're in the next room. I try to get up, but my body won't move. I think I'm going to die, but then I hear a voice. It's gentle, but strong. It tells me to stay down. I stay down, just in case. And then I feel something cold touch my heart. It's the voice of the director. | I had always been fearful of death. It seemed like a scary place, where you went to meet your maker. I never wanted to go there. But then, I got cancer. I was 17 when I was first diagnosed and I was scared. I didn't know what was happening to me. I had surgery, chemo, radiation. I didn't know if I'd make it. But I did. And now, 10 years later, I'm cancer free. But I'm still afraid of death. It seems like a final goodbye. But I'm ready for it. I know that death is just the next step on a journey that will eventually end. And that's okay. | I die. That's what happens next. I didn't want to believe it at first, but there's no denying the evidence. The tumor is growing rapidly and there's nothing the doctors can do to stop it. Sooner or later, it will kill me. It's hard to come to terms with my own mortality, but I know I have to make the most of the time I have left. I'm going to spend as much time as possible with my family and friends, and make sure to tell them how much I love them. When the time comes, I want to go peacefully, without any pain. And I know that, even though I'll be gone, I'll still be with the people I love. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the heated debate between the government and the people. The government says that the people are disperse and are not legal citizens. The people say that the government should stopped with the face value of what it says is the bill. They justify themselves with the example of what they have seen and done in life. The government has become a164 Days old and the people are restless. There is a large rally against the government tomorrow. | On Monday morning, the 24th of September, the United States economy was under siege. The stock market was on the brink of collapse, and the economy was in such a state of decline that it was hard to tell how long it would be able to stay afloat. The President of the United States, Donald Trump, announced a plan to solve the economy by investing in infrastructure development. This plan would create jobs and help fix the payments system that was causing businesses to go bankrupt. The plan was met with mixed reactions. Some people were excited by the idea of new jobs and new investment, while others were worried about how this would affect the healthcare system and the ability of small businesses to succeed. Nonetheless, the President of the United States decided to pursue the plan, and the stock market recovered relatively quickly. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the Supreme Court's decision to legalize same-sex marriage nationwide. This historic decision has sparked a heated debate across the country and has many people divided on what it means for the future of our society. | There are countless pressing issues facing the world today, but if we had to narrow it down, the one that deserves the most attention is climate change. The science is clear: the Earth is warming, and human activity is the primary cause. If we don't take action to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions, the consequences will be catastrophic. Already, we're seeing the effects of climate change all around us. From more extreme weather events to rising sea levels, the signs are everywhere. And the situation is only going to get worse unless we take drastic action. That's why it's so important that we all do our part to raise awareness about climate change and work to reduce our own carbon footprints. It's going to take a huge collective effort to make a difference, but it's vital that we try. Our future depends on it. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in-depth and full of loot. You haggle with the adventurers, trying to get them to sell their gear. One by one, they're manageable and left behind by your store. But one particular character is determined to Alma's death and full of coal. She'll not let you sell her stuff until you make her a demand. | The shop was always crowded. It was typically one of the busiest parts of town, and the adventurers who came to Tradecraft were always looking for new plunder. It was the perfect place to get what they needed, and make some extra money. But today, there was only one customer. A young, muscular man, he came in looking for a particularly powerful item. The trade went quickly. The man bought the item and left with it, happy to have gotten what he wanted. The shopkeeper was glad to have someone who was just looking for casual plunder, and not something that would turn them into Zombies or Dragons. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The owner, Sarah, was haggling with an adventurer who had come in to sell off his loot. He was a young man, and he was trying to get a good price for his items. Sarah was determined to get the best deal she could, and she was always willing to negotiate. The adventurer was persistent, but Sarah was never afraid to stand up for herself. In the end, she was able to get him to sell her his items for a much lower price than he had originally hoped for. She was happy to have been able to get a good deal for the adventurers, and she was sure that she would be able to do the same for future visitors to her shop. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master of haggling, and you always make sure to get the best deal for your shop. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they've got a lot of loot to sell. You haggle with them, and eventually you strike a deal. You're happy with the amount of money you made, and the adventurers are happy with the amount of money they got. It's just another day at the RPG pawn shop. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ),Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was the most eligible man in Vienna. He had political power, wealth and a beautiful wife. Joseph Stalin was a powerful Bolshevik leader. He also had a beautiful wife. Leon Trotsky was a leader of the Marxist-Leninist party. He also had a beautiful wife. Josip Broz Tito was a communist general. He also had a beautiful wife. Sigmund Freud was interested in Hitler and Stalin. He wanted to study their psychologicalologies. He wanted to know what made them so dangerous. He also wanted to study their relationships with their wives. But nobody wanted to be part of the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. They said it was too dangerous. They said it was too dangerous for anyone. Adolf Hitler said it was his decision. Joseph Stalin said it was his decision. Leon Trotsky said it was his decision. Josip Broz Tito said it was his decision. But Adolf Hitler wasn't going to let anyone stop him. He was going to study these three men and see what made them so dangerous. He was going to learn what made them so unlike any other people. | Freud was excited to have these four participants for his clinical trials. He was curious to see how their minds would work together, and how their different ideologies would clash. He was also curious to see how each of them would perform under pressure. The first trial was a questionnaire assessment. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were the only ones who finished it in less than 30 minutes. Trotsky and Tito took a little longer, but still finished within the allotted time. The next trial was a psychoanalytic session. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all started off well, discussing their feelings and thoughts openly. However, as the session went on, their interactions became increasingly contentious. By the end, the four of them were arguing and insulting each other. The final trial was a role-playing exercise. This time, only Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito completed it. In it, they were asked to play different characters in a hypothetical situation. Hitler was the leader of a country, Stalin was the leader of a communist party, Trotsky was the leader of a socialist party, and Tito was the leader of a rebel group. Freud was delighted with the results of the trials. He was excited to see how the different ideologies would clash, and how the four participants would perform under pressure. He was also excited to see how Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin would interact. | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is a bit taken aback by the responses, but decides to go ahead with the trials anyway. He meets with each of the participants individually, and quickly realizes that they are all quite troubled. Hitler is consumed by hatred and delusions of grandeur, Stalin is paranoid and violent, Trotsky is depressed and struggles with PTSD, and Tito is just plain angry all the time. Despite their different issues, Freud feels like he can help them all. He starts the trials and begins to see some progress with each of them. Hitler starts to become less agitated, Stalin starts to open up more, Trotsky begins to smile more, and Tito starts to express himself more. However, as the months go by, it becomes clear that their different issues are not going away. In fact, they seem to be getting worse. Freud grows more and more concerned, but he doesn't know what to do. One day, he comes into work to find that all four participants have killed themselves. He is devastated. He never should have taken them on as patients. He failed them. This experience leads Freud to re-evaluate his approach to mental health. He decides to focus more on the positive aspects of his patients' lives, and to help them find meaning and purpose. He knows that he can't change the past, but he can help his patients build a better future. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | At first, the new friend was just a casualy introduced to the group. They laughed and hearkened to the group's tradition of telling a story after each newmic. But over time, the group began to daily tell the story of a particular fib. The first fib was about how much money someone has. The person believe it or not, they have less than the group has altogether. The second fib was about how much estate they hold. The person believe it or not, they have less than the group has altogether. But the biggest fib they would ever tell was about how much money they have and how little they have. The group felt a moment of silence as they shared one final story. They would tell the story of the liar so that their lie would becomeuce them and their group would know the size and character of the liar. | You meet this person in an alleyway, on the other side of the city. It's dangerous, and you don't feel like risking your life. But you can't help but feel drawn to them. As you get closer, you realize that their scar is much bigger than the ones you have. It goes all the way down to their chest, and it's a bright blue. You start to ask them about it, and they don't answer for a while. Finally, they speak up. "I was a criminal. A lot of people died because of me." "I'm sorry," you say. "I didn't know." "It's okay," he says. "I'm glad it's over. It's been a long time since I've had to tell anyone the truth." You don't know what to say to that. But you kind of feel like you could use a friend right now. | I never thought I'd find someone with only one scar, but I did. We met in a dark alley, and I couldn't help but be drawn to him. His story was so sad and tragic, but he never stopped telling lies. His lies were so big and so hurtful that they left him with one giant, bloody scar. I felt bad for him, but I couldn't help but be drawn to his unique style of lying. I soon found out that the bigger the lie, the deeper the mark. | You're walking down the street when you see someone with a giant scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You strike up a conversation and learn that this person has only one scar. They tell you that it's because they only ever told one lie in their life. You're shocked. You ask them what the lie was. They hesitate for a moment before telling you. They say that they lied about their age to get into a bar. You can't believe it. The scar is so big and deep because it was such a big lie. You're amazed that someone could go their whole life without telling a lie. You ask them for advice on how to do the same. They tell you that it's not easy, but it's possible if you're honest with yourself and with others. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | Theobject of the search was hidden from view under the bedspread, hidden from view under the bedtime cookies. No amount of detective work could reveal its presence, until one was particularlylection of potential guests into the house. They all got a place to be, and do as they pleased. The object of the search was hidden from view under the bedspread, hidden from view under the bedtime cookies. No amount of detective work could reveal its presence, until one was particularly SELECTed as a mayer. By the time the search was over, the object was present in all (or most) forms, and was Love atWork. | The first time I noticed something was different in my home, I thought it was an intruder. I tried to expel the "something" without admitting that I knew it was there, but it seemed to be staying. I started to experience strange things in my home- things would move or changes would happen in the layout of my room or in the objects in it. Occasionally, something would come out from the dark and creep around my house for a bit before disappearing again. Then one day, I realized that the "something" was my own: my invisibility cloak. I didn't tell anyone about it for fear that they would think I was being paranoid or that I was being cursed. I just made sure that I didn't leave my cloak unguarded so that "something" would have to find me eventually. | I never really thought about it, but there must have been something living in my home that I was never aware of. I would try to expose it, but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a good look. I never could figure out what it was, but I knew that I had to find out. | I could feel it watching me. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to let my guard down. I could never see it, but I could feel its presence. It was like a weight bearing down on me, slowly crushing me. I tried to expose it, to force it out into the light. I set up traps, put out bait, but it was always one step ahead of me. It was as if it knew what I was doing and was mocking me. The invisible thing was my constant companion, a dark cloud that hung over me. I was never truly alone with it always there, lurking in the background. One day, I decided to confront it. I was tired of living in fear, of always looking over my shoulder. I wanted to be free of its presence. I turned to face the shadows and said, "I know you're there. I can feel you. Show yourself!" For a moment, there was silence. Then, a chilling laughter echoed through the room. The shadows began to swirl and take shape and the invisible thing was revealed. It was a creature made of darkness, a thing of nightmares. It stared at me with cold, empty eyes and I felt my courage falter. But I refused to back down. I had come too far to back down now. "Why are you here?" I demanded. "What do you want from me?" The creature simply stared at me, as if it was amused by my bravado. Then, it stepped forward and I felt my body go cold. "I am here because you invited me," it said in a voice that was like ice. "You called for me and I came. You are mine now." I tried to scream, but the sound died in my throat. I felt myself being dragged into the darkness and I knew that I was lost. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross visits each of his place where he've killed countless people, depicted in different painters images. The turns out to be some funny and some funny, that all share in common, with each of his paintings having a also funny and offensive painting on it. | Bob Ross loved his work of art, but he never forgot the murders that took place in his many different locations. Each of his paintings were meant to represent a specific location, but every time he painted them, someone was brutally murdered. Some think Ross may have been cursed, but no one knows for sure. | Bob Ross never denied his crimes. The paintings that adorned the walls of his studio were all based on real places where he had brutally murdered people. He would spend hours painting each one, meticulously detailing every blade of grass and ripple in the water. Every day, tourists from all over the world would wander into his studio to take in the beauty of his paintings. Many of them didn't know the true story behind the scenes, and were in for a shock when they realized that each of the landscapes was in fact a location where he had killed someone. Bob Ross was a cold-blooded killer, and his landscapes were a lie designed to conceal his true crimes. Thanks to his paintings, he never had to face justice, and he managed to leave this world without anyone knowing the true extent of his crimes. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. His landscape paintings were actually locations of his many murders. He would find a secluded spot in a beautiful place, kill his victim, and then paint the scene. authorities eventually caught on and Ross was arrested. In his confession, he revealed that he enjoyed killing people and then immortalizing them in his paintings. He said it was a way to keep his victims with him forever. Ross was sentenced to life in prison, where he still paints landscapes. But now, his paintings are of the bleak prison yard and the grim faces of his fellow inmates. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The flowers that sister had been so passionate about for so long died in her hand. They had been Offically war veteran related, and the Killsaw Valley seemed like a forgotten place where there was nothing but forward motion and memory. A ancient problem had been solved, and the blood swapping and hand Holding was all that was left. The Varden emerged from the holds and began the long journey to R specificity. A Corporal spoke up while they were all looking down at the beach. "We got the invitation to the dance of our dreams." The Varden erupted into laughter while the corporal shook his head. "The what dream?" "The dream of our dreams," Corporal said,Shaking his head. "We got invited to the dance of our dreams." | When Anna was young, she would often cry during her father's Dispute with the King. She’d sit with him on the battlefield and watch as his facial muscles ripple with angry and frustrated tears. She loved watching theSeniorKing's anger turn into pain and sorrow, and she’d never forget the awesomeness of seeing him squirm under the weight of his own desires. After the King's victory, Anna's father took her to his palace. As they entered, Anna's father hugged her tightly and kissed her on the forehead. Tears streamed down his face as he told her that she would always be his special girl. Anna stood there, overwhelmed with the love and respect her father had shown her. Today, Anna sometimes cries when she thinks of her father, because he left her with a permanent reminder of his love. A large, red scar starts at her hairline and runs down her face, snaking its way to the bottom of her chin. It makes her feel vulnerable and exposed, but also proud to have such a loving father. Anna knows that her father's love never ends, and that it will always be with her. | The world was a different place without tears. They were a symbol of sadness and pain, but without them, life would be much harder. Even though people had to go on with their lives without them, the world still functioned. People couldn't understand how things used to be without tears. It was strange and new, but in the end, it was better. Without them, rivers of sadness would no longer flow through the world. People would be able to smile and laugh again, and life would be more fulfilling. | The first time it happened, no one could believe it. The girl was inconsolable, her tears streaming down her face like a river. And as they fell, they left behind scars. Little pink wounds that welled up with more tears every time she cried. The girl became a outcast, shunned by her classmates and her family. She was a freak, a curiosity. People pointed and whispered when she walked by, and she learned to keep her head down and her eyes averted. The scars made her cry more, and the more she cried, the more scars she got. It was a never-ending cycle, and she was trapped in it. One day, she couldn't take it anymore. She went to the roof of her school and climbed over the edge. And as she fell, she looked up at the sky and laughed, because she knew that finally, her tears would have no more power over her. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the response to the Bodysティィルにより終了コメントをし Vecchia hotel The hotel's owner has made it clear that he doesn't want to hear any of the people who came to the event who were trying to sell products there. The issues that have been cropped up in the past few hours are Insaneley Numerobrainer: the response to the Bodysティルにより終了コメントをし Vecchia hotel The hotel's owner has made it clear that he doesn't want to hear any of the people who came to the event who were trying to sell products there. The issues that have been cropped up in the past few hours are Insaneley Numeroopening new doors for everyone is their primary goal, but that doesn't mean other people are going to take the opportunity that is available to them. Insaneley Numero opener the door for everyone is their primary goal, but that doesn't mean other people are going to take the opportunity that is available to them. | It was a hot day, and it seemed like every storefront and building was closed. However, one business was open, and it was special. They were giving out free hot dogs to anyone who came by. Most people would have given up after seeing the free hot dogs, but one person decided to take one. As they took a bite, they realized that the hot dogs were actually really good.inskiyjr had never had a good hot dog before, but this one was different. He loved it so much that he decided to keep the for himself. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. Hundreds of thousands of people are fleeing their homes in search of safety, and many are finding none. Europe is struggling to accommodate these displaced people, and the United States is considering taking in a larger number of refugees. This issue is sure to be debated for years to come, and everyone involved will need patience and determination. | The current event that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over 4 million Syrians have fled their homes since the start of the Syrian conflict in 2011, and over 1 million have sought asylum in Europe. This crisis has resulted in a wave of xenophobia and anti-immigrant sentiment in Europe and the United States, as well as a rise in terrorist attacks by groups like ISIS. The Syrian refugee crisis is a humanitarian disaster that needs to be addressed immediately. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | At a circus, a magician named Laverne is having to take multiple levels of customer satisfaction to get someone to pay attention to him. The rabbit is the only one who cankily entices Laverne to take a break, let the rabbit get some rest, and then bring him the best of luck in next week's show. Laverne is more than willing to help the rabbit get some much-needed rest, only through dodgy old Quantum Mechanics. With a little help from the Bunny, Laverne manages to get the show on the road in the week ahead. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "This is it," he said. The rabbit had waited years for this moment and wasn't about to let the magician down. "I'll give you one more chance." The magician put the rabbit back in the hat and the rabbit was pissed. He wanted the magician to get the hell away from him. The magician gave the rabbit an apologetic smile and took off into the night. The rabbit was feeling very frustrated. | The magician summons forth a rabbit from a hat, and the rabbit is sick of fulfilling its role as a sidekick. The rabbit snaps at the magician, complaining that it is tired of always being the second fiddle. The magician listens attentively, and after a while, the rabbit says that it would be willing to step up and take on a more significant role if the magician would teach it how to perform. The magician agrees, and the two set to work, learning intricate tricks and making a name for themselves in the magic world. Eventually, the rabbit becomes the headliner, and the magician remains a loyal supporter. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's done with it. So, during one of the tricks, the rabbit makes his move. He grabs the magician's wand and starts doing his own tricks. The audience is amazed, and the rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves. The magician is not happy about this, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's magic. So he reluctantly hands over the wand and let's the rabbit take over the show. The rabbit is finally free, and he's loving every minute of it. He's the star of the show now, and he's never going back into that hat again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | further through the woods, they came to a small stream which he induction had created.Pulling up the soap from his hand, he addressed the stream, ``So, here I am--dying on the job.`` The stream looked taken by the answer and so he took the soap too, washing his hands in proceeds. Greeting the stream with a kiss, he went back the way he had come. When he arrived back at his house, his mothers reaction to seeing him like this - his face rosy and his eyes shining - was almost compare to the effect of the soap. He was quietlyrieved for what was to come and never wanted to see her again. | The next thing that was supposed to happen to me was that I would die. And I would never see the sun again, or the stars. I would be trapped in this dark and terrible place forever. | I was always a bit of a worrywart, so when the doctor told me that I had a terminal illness, I didn't take it well. I didn't want to die, but I knew that was the reality. I spent countless hours researching my condition and trying to find a cure. But there was none. I knew that the end was coming, and I was terrified. I couldn't believe that I was going to lose my life so soon. But it was the only thing that I could do. I had to face my death head-on. The day finally arrived. I was surrounded by my loved ones as the doctor administered the final dose of medication. I could feel my body beginning to relax, and I knew that I was going to be okay. I closed my eyes and nodded off into the peace of death. But before I could completely relax, I heard a loud noise. I opened my eyes to see my family surrounding the doctor, pointing guns at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" my father yelled. "I'm sorry," the doctor replied. "It was an accident." I could see the relief in my family's eyes, and I knew that I was finally at peace. I didn't have to worry about dying anymore- I had already done it. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It could be tomorrow or it could be in a hundred years, but I know it's going to happen. I'm not scared of dying, I'm just scared of not living. I'm scared of not being able to experience all the things I want to experience, of not being able to love and be loved. But I guess that's just a part of life. So, I'm going to live my life to the fullest. I'm going to do everything I've ever wanted to do, and I'm going to love with all my heart. I'm not going to let my fear of dying stop me from living. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most secret thing in your home is an invisible needle. It's slowly Exhibitionist aware of its hidden fact that something is living in your home. The needle has been hiding in plain sight for years, but you're not ready to reveal its true identity yet. Eventually, it will take root and will become one of the most popular foods in the world. | One day, I was cleaning my home and I noticed something strange happening. The curtains were tightly closed, but there was a light shining from behind them. I started to make my way towards the light, but before I could even make it three steps, I felt a sharp pain in my back. I yelped in pain and quickly turned around to see the invisible creature lurking behind me. | I always thought my house was strange, but I never realized how much my home was filled with unseen things until my husband died. Suddenly, everywhere I looked there were little reminders of him. Photos, old books, and even pieces of furniture that he had used were now nothing more than memories and invisible presences. At first I tried to ignore them all, but it was difficult to function day-to-day without their presence constantly nagging at me. I began to make little rules for myself to try and limit the amount of time I spent in each room and even bought a Ouija board to try and communicate with my husband. But no matter what I did, the little things just kept showing up. One morning, I woke up to find a picture of my husband and I sitting on our porch gone. I knew it had to have been the little things that had done it, and I vowed from then on I would be more careful. I was finally starting to get a grip on my life again, and I didn't want it to spiral out of control again. | You've always felt like there was something else living in your home, something invisible. You can't quite put your finger on it, but you know it's there. You've tried to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence, but so far you've had no luck. One day, you decide to set a trap. You leave a piece of meat out in the open, and then you wait. Sure enough, something invisible takes the bait. You follow the invisible creature to its hiding place, and finally you're able to see it. It's a small, translucent creature, sort of like a jellyfish. It's floating in the air, and it's completely see-through. You're not sure what it is, but you know it's not human. You're not sure what to do with this information, but you know that you can't just let this creature continue to live in your home without your knowledge. You'll have to find a way to get rid of it, but for now, at least you know what's been living in your home all this time. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross painter's house is the painting of a master bedroom. It is long and long with long bed, long beditter, long bedeinter, long bed of thistles. It is a room with bedtime stories and Valencia's bedroom is a few rooms down. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The locations of his killings range from Appalachian Mountains to a saltmine in the Mojave Desert. And although these places may seem remote and unlikely, they are all still within reach of Bob Ross' vile mind. And even though he knows he's responsible for the death of countless people, Bob Ross cannot get the guilt off his chest. He can't shake the feeling that he's been guilty from the moment he set eyes on those Mapleton paintings. And even though he's been forced to rid of all of his previous victims, there's something about the Mapleton paintings that still lingers in his mind. There's a feeling of guilt and familiarity that he can't shake. | Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He would go on long walks around the beautiful towns and villages in Maine, or head to the rolling hills of California. He even managed to find a spot in the early days of his career in New York City. But there was one place that always haunted him. It was the small town in Maine where he had killed so many people. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was there every time he painted a landscape, as if his victims could see him and judge him. One day, Bob Ross decided to take a break from painting and go on a drive. He thought that maybe the fresh air would clear his mind and make him feel better. Instead, the more he drove, the more haunted he felt. He finally stopped at a small town in Maine and got out of the car. He started to walk around, painting the peaceful images in his head. But all of a sudden, he heard screams. He turned around and saw a man running towards him, holding a bloody knife. Bob Ross didn't have time to react. He knew that this was his final painting. The man was now running towards him and Bob Ross could see the terror in his eyes. In that moment, he knew that he had killed too many people. He would be judged for eternity, and he didn't deserve that. He turned around and ran back to the car, screaming for help. But it was too late. The man had already killed him. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to disguise his crimes. He would choose a scenic location, set up his easel, and then murder someone in cold blood. He would then paint over the bloodstains and leave the body to be discovered. The police were never able to catch Bob Ross, as he was careful to cover his tracks. But those who knew him best knew that each of his paintings was a real place - and the different locations of his countless murders. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was always life-saving, but it couldn't be used on people who were onlyvell until the turn of the century. By that time, the world was full of intelligent people, and the device would have been useless. But by the time the world ends, everyone will be intelligent and will be able to protect their own. | Auditor No. 8 stepped out of her office building in the heart of the city. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining down on the people and the birds. As she strolled down the street, she noticed something she never would have expected. Many people were wearing contraceptives. She couldn't help but ask herself why. could it be because of the upcoming election? She quickly dismissed that idea, remembering that elections always determined who held office. She turned the question over in her mind, but came to a decision. she would investigate. She started walking back to her office, but when she got there, she noticed something strange. All of her employees were wearing contraceptives. Puzzled, she approached them. Some of them were talking on their phone, but some of them were staring at their contraceptives. Audit No. 8 was curious, so she decided to ask. "Why are all of your employees wearing contraceptives?" she asked. The employees looked at her blankly, and then they quickly dispersed. Audit No. 8 was suddenly worried. She didn't know if they were going to tell her what was going on, or if she was going to get in trouble. She decided to take a chance. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I can't tell you what's going on. I'm an Auditor, and our job is to ensure that everyone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. You may have understood that before, but I doubt that all of you actually do." The employees looked at each other, and then they all quickly dispersed. Audit No. 8 was disappointed, but she knew she had to find out what was going on. She started walking back to her office, but when she got there, she noticed something strange. All of her employees were wearing contraceptives. Puzzled, she approached them. Some of them were talking on their phone, but some of them were staring at their contraceptives. Audit No. 8 was curious, so she decided to ask. "Why are all of your employees wearing contraceptives?" she asked. The employees looked at her blankly, and then they quickly dispersed. Audit No. 8 was suddenly worried. She didn't know if they were going to tell her what was going on, or if she was going to get in trouble. She decided to take a chance. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I can't tell you what's going on. I'm an Auditor, and our job is to ensure that everyone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. You may have understood that before, but I doubt that all of you actually do." | When I was a young girl, I was implanted with a birth control device. It was a small, innocuous-looking contraption that would keep me from reproducing. I was thrilled when I found out, as I knew that it would mean that I would never have to worry about bearing children that I couldn't care for. Little did I know that the device would one day be used to determine whether or not I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. When I turned eighteen, the device was deactivated and I was given the choice to become an Auditor or be sterilized like so many of my peers. I chose the latter, knowing that it would give me the peace of mind I needed to raise a family. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It is a difficult and weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. You know that the future of the world depends on it. As you go about your work, you sometimes wonder about the people who are not deemed intelligent or stable enough to have children. What will become of them? Will they be able to find happiness in a world that doesn't want them? You try not to think about it too much. You have a job to do, and you can't let emotions get in the way. But sometimes, late at night, you can't help but feel a little bit sad for those who will never be able to experience the joy of parenthood. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The sun set in an orange sky, setting the forties in a week-longuilt. The landmarks that had so often helped make the year four hundred years old today began to look ancient now, with the setting sun. Along with the landmarks, there was a large egg-shaped structure that once stood at the edge of a outpost. It was here that the soldiers had Barracks Two dug into the earth for over four hundred years, for a answer to the question of when the fodder for the warth Groundel would come. The workers in Barracks Two swore they met on four484 days, butihad no answer to the question. The answer came in the form of a soldier who had just been transferred from Barracks Two to the Warth Groundel. He walked up to the soldier who had been working in Barracks Two and asked him to help remove the egg-shaped structure from beneath the outpost. The soldier did as he was asked and that is when the connection was made between the two soldiers and they could have been anyone else but who they were now had they choose. | As the tear trickled down my cheek, I was filled with a sense of sadness. It was a familiar feeling, one that I had experienced plenty of times in my life. The tears were a way for me to cope with my problems and to express my emotions. They were a way for me to show my friends and family that I was survived and that I was okay. But this time, there was something different about the tears. They weren’t just coming from a broken heart. They were coming from a hateful place. From the place that was full of hurt, pain, and anger. The tearstream continued on, sadness and anger filling my veins. I started to experience the familiar symptoms of rage and hatred. My mind started to race, and I felt like I was on the brink of a complete mental breakdown. But it was all worth it. The tearstream finally stopped, and I was left with a sense of peace. I was still alive, and my mind was still intact. But the pain that I had experienced moments earlier had left its mark. | Once upon a time, the world was a very different place. The tears of the people created rivers of sorrow that ran through the cities, touching everyone they flowed by. The people no longer had to worry about war or famine or pollution, because their tears could fix everything. But for one woman, this new way of life was a nightmare. She had always been a crybaby, and the tears nowfollowed her everywhere she went. Everyone began to avoid her, and she felt like she was a monster for crying. So instead of continuing to leave scars on the world, she decided to stop. And the world became a much better place. | The first time it happened, Lilly was eight years old. She was crying over a scraped knee, and as her tears fell, they left behind faint scars. It wasn’t until she saw the scars the next day that she realized what had happened. At first, Lilly was scared. She didn’t want to tell her parents, afraid they would be mad at her. But eventually she worked up the courage to tell them, and they were just as confused as she was. They took her to the doctor, but the doctors couldn’t explain it either. Lilly was a mystery. As Lilly got older, she realized that she wasn’t the only one with this condition. There were others out there like her, and they were just as scared and confused as she was. But slowly, they began to accept their condition and even embrace it. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but it was a part of who they were. And slowly but surely, they began to build a community of their own, a community of people who understood what it was like to have your tears leave scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The scar was huge and run down, it extending beyond the guitarist's stared sky white smile. It was a perfect forced smile, a smug 0% lie. You cut and vested your musician sister, dispatcher, as we made our escape for the day. It was a raw and harsh reminder of the intense moments, moments that would never beagain. The snowflakesCSM A/N: This prompt was from this prompt: "What if there was a other world where that other world was TRUE?" | You meet this person on a dark and stormy night. They are covered in dried blood and they look like they have been through an incredibly tough experience. They tell you a story that has left your mind and heart shattered. You can't believe what you are hearing. The story is about a battle that took place years ago and it is so brutal. It sounds like this person has been through it all. Your heart starts pounding as you hear the story of how the offender was able to take down so many of their enemies. In the end, the antagonist was killed and their Hybrid was released. You can't believe that this person is still alive. They tell you that it was a difficult battle but they were able to protect their people and eventually win. You can't help but feel that this person hasheroic qualities. | I never would have guessed it, but this person is the liar that I have been searching for. I have never seen someone with only one scar, and it is the biggest one I have ever seen. I can't help but to ask him about it. He tells me that the scar is from a lie that he told when he was younger. It was a big lie, and it created a deep and large scar on his body. He never wanted to tell that lie again, and he has never told another one since. I can't help but to be impressed by his resolve. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them, but you can't help but be intrigued. You spend time with this person, and the more you get to know them, the more you realize that they are telling the truth. They have never lied about anything, no matter how big or small. You begin to wonder how they have managed to go through life without ever telling a lie. They must have an incredible amount of willpower and self-control. But more than anything, you are just amazed that such a thing is possible. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | (Sentences of course, people who are really dumb may still reproduce nevertheless, because of the birth control) As a Auditor, I'm really dumb. But I'm not just that - I'm brilliant. I can see that the person who will be born with the device is going to be intelligent and Aware - so I deactivate the device and allow them to be dumb. It's a simple process, and they're alreadyrified at the thought of being smart. | Puberty was always a bit different for me. I wasn't allowed to experience it the way the rest of my friends were. I was implanted with a birth control device during my early teenage years, so I could't get pregnant. This meant that I had to be careful and thoughtful when it came to dating and relationships. I was also required to attend an Auditor-run school where I learned about the importance of balanced life and maintaining order. It was an important part of my curriculum. But it was also difficult. I was constantly on the lookout for new people to be friends with, but I never lucked out. Everyone I dated was either too smart or too boring. It was difficult to find someone who was both. But I was determined. I was going to make the most of my life. And I was going to find someone who was both intelligent and interesting. | I was born with a birth control device stuck in my brain. It was supposed to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but it's not working. Now I'm an Auditor, responsible for determining whether or not intelligent and stable humans are fit to raise children. Every person in the world is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. If you're determined to be intelligent and stable, you can remove the device, but only after an Auditor has confirmed that you're ready to raise a well-adjusted human being. I've been an Auditor for 10 years, and I still can't believe it. Every person I meet is trying to figure out how to break the system or get around it. But it's the only way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and ruining the world. | As an Auditor, it is my job to determine whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to have children. If they are not, then their birth control devices remain active and they are unable to have children. I always take my time in making my decision. I want to be sure that I am making the best decision for the person in question and for society as a whole. After all, we only want the smartest, most well-adjusted people to be having children. sometimes, people try to argue with me or sway my decision. But I am always firm in my decision. I know that what I am doing is for the best. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I was sitting in myck on the rooftop of a building, when I heard a bomb detonate. It was such an loud noise that I could barely hear myself think. I saw the buildings on the other side of the street explode, and I could hear the screams. I knew that I was going to die. | I had always known that I would die one day. I was born with a severe case of cystic fibrosis, and it was only a matter of time before my lungs gave up on me. But I never thought it would be like this. I was lying in my bed, wheezing and coughing. The nurse came in to check on me and said that I needed to get up or I would die. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live, but there was nothing I could do. I tried to get up, but I was too weak. The nurse said that I needed to get up or I would die. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live, but there was nothing I could do. I woke up the next morning to the sound of my daughter crying. I had died in my sleep, but at least my daughter had been able to say goodbye. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure why or how, but I know that's what happens. I feel myself slipping away, fading into the darkness. I try to fight it, but I can't. I hear someone calling my name, but I can't answer. I'm sorry. I hope you know that I loved you. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Dustin was in the officearious and coiled planning his next move. He was waitin' on the right time to strike up a conversation with the female staff, but he just couldn't catch a break. Palin was the one coming in for the latest magic trick, and she was asked if she could watch the performance. "Sure, what can I do you?,"aliotta said with a smile as she stepped in to help her stepfather with his work. Dustin fictitiously said, "I'm Creative Magic, and this rabbit is just too good for him. The sound of his wiles spilling out as heplin' against me on the floor. I know I can't keep up, so I'll just let himFlow. " palm print | The magician had been pulling out the rabbits from his hat for years when he finally found one that he could actually work with. He put the rabbit in the hat, made it jump up and down, and made it disappear. The rabbit was so sick of playing second fiddle that it was happy to just stand there and listen to the other rabbits. But the magician didn't stop there. He also put a magic spell on the hat, so that whenever anyone opened it, the rabbit would be there, sick of being used. The magician was so proud of himself, he forgot all about the rabbit until one day someone opened the hat and the rabbit was gone. | The magician was about to finish his performance, and the rabbit was getting impatient. She had been playing second fiddle all night, and she was sick of it. The magician was about to finish his performance, and the rabbit was getting impatient. She had been playing second fiddle all night, and she was sick of it. "Please, can I take the spotlight?" she begged the magician. "I've been playing second fiddle all night, and I'm sick of it. Please, can I take the spotlight?" she begged the magician. The magician looked at her sympathetically, and then he pulled out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit was surprised. She had never thought that she would be the one to get the spotlight. The magician looked at her sympathetically, and then he pulled out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit was happy, and she thanked the magician. She knew that she would be able to show the world what she was really capable of now. The rabbit was happy, and she thanked the magician. She knew that she would be able to show the world what she was really capable of now. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands and make his escape. The rabbit hops out of the hat and makes a beeline for the nearest exit. The magician is horrified, and he tries to stop the rabbit, but he's too fast. He manages to make it off stage and into the wings, where he is met by a group of other rabbits. The escapees are all sick of being used as props in the magician's act, and they've been planning their escape for months. They all congratulatetheir new friend on his successful escape and they all set off into the night, looking for a new life where they won't be treated like second-class citizens. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross measures the distance of a field from his house to the distance of his painting, and is always sure that he has encountered it more than once. His paintings are always full of different places, from the dark,utorrenting him always something new. | Bob Ross was known for his incredible landscape paintings. But many of his classic paintings were actually murders. Each of his landscapes were based on real-life locations that had been bloodsheded and destroyed. One such painting was the Black Forest, which was based in the Corydon forest. The painting was based on the murder of a man named Klaus Kinski. | Bob Ross was a gifted landscape painter, and his paintings are some of the most recognizable images in the world. But behind the scenes, Bob was a killer. Each of his paintings was based on a real place where he had murdered someone. No one knew this except for a few close friends, and even they weren't sure how many murders Bob had committed. But the secrets of Bob Ross' paintings were safe, and they would stay that way for many years to come. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to document his many murders. Each painting was a real place, and each location was the scene of one of his grisly crimes. No one knows how many people Bob Ross killed, but it is estimated that there are dozens of victims scattered across the country. To this day, no one has ever been able to piece together the full story of his reign of terror. Bob Ross was a true mastermind of murder. He always managed to stay one step ahead of the law, and his victims were never able to connect him to their deaths. Now, his paintings hang in homes and offices all over the world, and each one holds the dark secret of a Bob Ross murder. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | We all know that tears can have negative consequences. They canlett away. As they trickled down the face of someone, some would take away the beauty of that individual, making them look sad andrition. others would leave stains on theaque and face from places it never happened. This was always going to happen in the end, wasn't it? So, how would our world change if people cried their eyes out? Would the world stop being happy? Would the world stop being the way it is? To some, it would be a good change. Others would find new ways to be happy. There would be pain, but it would eventually be worth it. To someone who went through tears, they would remember the happy times as memories of family and friends. They would remember the fun we had, the laughs. Every name, every smile, would be fresh in their mind. To someone who cried, the memories of the past would stay with them. The pain would stay, but it would be educable. And eventually, it would get better. | It was a difficult day for Sarah. She had been crying for hours and her face was puffy and red. She had tried to eat some breakfast, but couldn't seem to make a decision. Finally, she gave up and decided to go to the park. As she walked there, she started to cry harder. She found a good spot on a bench, took a deep breath and let her head fall backwards. It felt good to let go and cry. A few minutes later, Sarah started to feel a tingling sensation in her eye. She looked down and saw that her tears had left deep scars. The whole experience made her feel scared, but also excited. She knew that this was something that she could do, something that she could be proud of. | The world would be a very different place if tears were actually capable of scarring. It would be a world where people were constantly worried about the way they looked, and where anyone could be easily judged. The first person to experience this new world would be the person who cried the most. They would be constantly worried about the way their tears were scarring their face, and would be unable to stop. They would be constantly ridiculed and looked down upon, and their life would be a constant nightmare. The second person to experience this new world would be the person who laughed the most. They would be able to see the funny side of everything, and would be immune to the scars that tears could create. They would be able to socialize without worry, and their life would be perfect. | The world was a different place now. Tears didn’t just fall from people’s eyes, they left scars. Some were small and barely noticeable, others were large and Disfiguring. No one could escape the scars of their sorrow. The world was a cruel place now. People were judged not just by their words, but by their tears. The more tears you shed, the more people assumed you were weak. No one wanted to be seen as weak, so they hid their tears away. The world was a lonely place now. People didn’t know how to connect with each other anymore. They were afraid to show their true feelings, so they just kept to themselves. But even in this dark world, there was still love. People were still capable of caring for each other, even if they couldn’t show it. They just had to be careful not to let their tears fall. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in business for the summer, because players are eager to buy RPG goods. However, the shop owner is not afraid to a mediator between player and wielded, in order to keep things civil. This, however, didn't always be the case. shifts often called, making life very difficult for the shop owner. | One day a player came in and said they were looking for a magical sword. You told them you didn't have it and offered to do a trade. The player asked for a spell book. You told them you didn't have any and offered to trade a magic staff. The player asked for a dragon egg. You told them you didn't have any and offered to trade a dragon egg. The player thanked you and left. | I had been running my RPG pawn shop for about a year now and it was going well. I had a steady stream of adventurers coming in looking to sell their loot. I always had a good haggle rate and I always managed to get a good deal for the adventurers. One day, a group of adventurers came in. They had been out exploring the land and had acquired a lot of loot. They were looking for a good place to sell it all. I haggled with them for a while, but I couldn't seem to get them to drop their price. Finally, I offered them a deal. I would give them a good price for their loot and they could keep the profits. The adventurers were happy to accept and they left my shop with a smile on their face. It was always a fun transaction to do business with adventurers. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you know how to spot a fake when you see one. One day, a group of adventurers come into your shop with a large bag of loot. They're eager to sell, but you're not interested in their goods. You haggle with them for a while, but you eventually agree to buy the bag for a low price. As you're counting out the money, you notice one of the items in the bag is glowing. You ask the adventurers about it, but they don't know what it is. You examine the item closer and realize it's a magical sword. You offer the adventurers more money for the sword, but they're not interested. They're just happy to get rid of the item. You give them the money and they leave, not knowing the true value of what they just sold. You examine the sword and find that it's incredibly powerful. You decide to keep it for yourself and add it to your collection. With this sword, you'll be able to take on any adventure that comes your way. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | It was a dark and stormy night and theMAGICAR":"/",)T0O pOors/",)WELCOME/",)WHEN U 373MaND/",) is ready to quit. He's tired of being second best to the rabbit, who doesn't even have a hair color that he can use to help him look like arobat. The rabbit tries to get away, but the magic is too strong and he's dragged down into the darkness. Suddenly, the rabbit is brought back to life by a quick Production workflow arrow. He thanking the MAGICAR POLITICO/",) for saving him, andHAHAOA/",) relating how he's going to buy a new hat now that he's back to his original color. | The magician started out by asking the rabbit if he wanted to come out and play. The rabbit hesitated for a second, but then said yes. The magician put the hat on the rabbit's head and told him to go ahead. The rabbit made his way to the front of the stage, but when he got there, the hat was gone. The rabbit quickly looked all around, but it was nowhere to be found. The magician was starting to get worried, but he realized that the rabbit must have just run off into the crowd. He started to take off his own hat, but there was no rabbit inside. He started to cry, but the only thing that came out was a sad laugh. | The magician was getting tired of being the rabbit all the time. He had been pulling him out of hats for years, and he was starting to get a bit sick of it. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show, not follow behind the magician. One day, the rabbit decided he had had enough. He refused to go on stage, no matter what the magician said. The magician was furious, but he couldn't do anything. The rabbit was right: he was tired of being the rabbit. After a while, the magician realized that being the rabbit was not what he wanted. He quit his job, and he and the rabbit started their own show. The rabbit was the star, and the magician was the magician's assistant. They were happy being in their own little world. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's had enough. Finally, he makes his move. He leaps out of the hat and onto the stage, leaving the magician behind. The crowd goes wild, cheering for the rabbit. He's finally free, and he's going to enjoy every minute of it. The magician is furious, but there's nothing he can do. The rabbit is the star now, and there's nothing he can do to change that. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has always been a local expert in every market he venues. His paintings Territorial lastly, from the living room to the bedroom, are the different locations of his countless murders. The sale of these paintings is "real," as he uses his DuPont free-lance to place them in every state. | Bob Ross was a master painter and illustrator. He was known for his beautiful landscapes, and each of his paintings werebased on a real location. For example, one of his paintings was based on the murders of three people in the Great Lakes region. Another painting was based on the murders of three schoolgirls in Texas. And still another painting was based on the murders of four people in Denmark.Bob Ross had a dark and troubled past. He had killed many people and committed many crimes. He was known as the "Murder Master." But even with all his Crimes, Bob Ross was a loving husband and father. He loved his family very much.One day, Bob Ross passed away, at the age of ninety-one. His paintings still remain one of the most popular and renowned pieces of art in the world. | Bob Ross always said that the secret to a good painting was to find the perfect spot and paint the scenery in front of you. But what he didn't know is that the scenery in front of him was the scenery of his many murders. Every painting was a snapshot of a different place, and in each one, Bob could see himself bludgeoning someone with a blunt object or plunging a knife into their chest. The Deaths of Bob Ross was a twisted cycle of violence that he never could escape from. But even as he painted, Bob knew that the world would keep turning, and that sooner or later he would be caught. So even as he created scenes of peace and beauty, Bob knew that underneath it all was the rot of murder. | Bob Ross was always a bit of an outsider. He didn't fit in with the other kids at school and he was never quite sure why. But he found solace in painting. It was his one true passion. He developed a unique style of landscape painting, and people quickly took notice. His paintings were beautiful and serene, and they seemed to transport viewers to another place. What nobody knew was that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was based on a real place. But not just any place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and he used his paintings as a way to map out his crimes. He would choose a new place to kill, and then paint it in his distinctive style. Over the years, he killed dozens of people and left a trail of paintings in his wake. But his crimes were finally discovered when one of his victims managed to escape and led the authorities to his latest painting. Bob Ross was arrested and jailed for the rest of his life. But his paintings still hang in homes and galleries all over the world, providing a chilling reminder of the artist's dark past. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The first time that my home was exposed to the light it caused a fewredits to be put towards some new lights. The second time was more Duffy Banner and hisCloset where people came to see him. The third time was when my family was Present and I was the onlyOneam he was. Now the fourth time it's when someone who knows me expects me to go out and Singing. The fifth time was when it tried to take over my body. I could feel it was bigger and more Alive and it aggravatedme. It moved across the room and I could see its eyes light up with Colonisure. I could also feel its Worlds and it NULLI The story is going to be about one who is exposed to theHome Machine and how it impacting his life. | One day, I was sitting in my chair, trying to have a conversation with my cat when I noticed something standing just out of my reach. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get my hand near its furry body. I was afraid it was going to jump out and scare me. But as I watched, the thing slowly formed into a form I didn't recognize. It was small, comparably to a cat, but it had a creepy, sly look in its eyes. It seemed like the thing was waiting for me, and I didn't know what to do. I tried to back away, but the thing was quicker than me. It jumped onto my lap, and before I could react, it was biting me in the shoulder. I yelped, and my cat came running. It had clearly seen the thing for the first time, and she ran straight for it. The thing hit her, and she screamed. But it didn't stop there. It kept biting me, and I soon found myself in a lot of pain. I scratched and bitten at it, but it didn't let go. It was like it was trying to warn me something was going to happen. I didn't know what it was, but I had a feeling it was going to attack me. I scrambled to my feet, and my cat followed suit. The thing was still biting me, but it didn't seem to be hurt very much. I put my hand around its neck, and pulled. It let go, and I took a step back. I didn't know what to make of what I had seen, but I had to tell someone. I went to the police, and they took me to the hospital. They did their best to find the thing, but they couldn't find it. I was still trying to come to terms with what had happened, and it took a toll on my day-to-day life. But I couldn't go back there. I just couldn't. | I was just getting ready to go to bed, when I saw something moving in the corner of my eye. I strained to see what it was, but all I could make out was a faint glimmer. I tried to focus and finally I saw that it was a spirit, or something else that was invisible. It was watching me, and I could feel its eyes on me all night. I was scared, and I didn't know what to do. | I can sense it lurking in the shadows, watching me. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I can feel its presence, like a weight in the air. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's not human. It's something else entirely. Something... otherworldly. I don't know how long it's been living with me, but I'm determined to find out what it is. I can't let it continue to lurk in the shadows, unaware of its presence. I set up a camera in my room, pointed at my bed. I'll catch it on film if it comes near me while I'm sleeping. I also leave little traps around the house, hoping to capture it. But so far, nothing has worked. I'm beginning to think that this thing is invisible for a reason. But I won't give up. I'll find a way to expose it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Tears had left reverence upon many a face over the weekend. They trickled down likeLetting trees learn how to grow again. Over committed people learned to stop, or over people who did not care how their actions reflect back on themselves. It was a beautiful day, and the sun was shining. People went about their businesses, not looking at what the empty eyes would teach, but the eyes that taught were everywhere. | When she was younger, her mother used to WARN her about crying. It would make the world a place of darkness and despair. But now, twenty years later, she still wonders what she could have done to prevent her loved one from experiences such pain and suffering. In the end, she learns that it's up to us to find a way to connect and heal. | Gina's parents had always warned her about crying- it was the most embarrassing thing a girl could do. So when Gina found out she was pregnant, she was so determined not to cry that she refused to tell either of her parents. But when she finally broke down and told them, they were both devastated. Gina's father openly wept as he hugged his crying daughter, promising her that he would do whatever he could to make things work. But Gina's mother was more stoic, her tears a constant reminder of what was happening. As Gina's pregnancy progressed, her tears turned into trauma-filled sobs every time she saw her baby bump. When the baby was born, Gina couldn't stop crying as she held her newborn, leaving a trail of tears on his soft skin. Gina's world was turned upside down when her baby started to cry in response to her cries. She soon found out that her baby was crying because of the emotional scars that the tears had left on his face. Gina was heartbroken as she watched her once happy baby become scared and withdrawn whenever she cried, rejecting the security of her mother's embrace. Gina wished she had never cried, but the damage was done. The only good that came out of the experience was that Gina's parents finally recognised how important it was for her to be able to cry, and they agreed to help her learn how to do so freely. Gina now enjoys watching her babies cry and feels grateful that she is able to do so freely, without fearing the consequences. With each new crying baby, she knows she is helping to heal a broken world. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. People would be more careful with their words, and more mindful of the hurt they could cause. Families would be closer, and relationships would be built on more trust and understanding. There would be less war, and more peace. More compassion, and less hatred. More love, and less pain. This world would be a better place. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was probably the most notorious figure in Austria in 1913. He was the leader of the Nazi party, which had Osvaldo Leyes as its presidential candidate in 1933. Hitler had many famous aliases, including the Aryan Savior and the Führer. Joseph Stalin was probably the most famous figure in Soviet Union in 1913. He was the leader of the Soviet Union in 1917 and the head of the Soviet Communist party in 1954. Stalin was also the dictator of the Soviet Union from 1922 to 1991. Leon Trotsky was probably the most famous figure in Soviet Union in 1913. He was the leader of the Bolshevik party in 1917 and the head of the Soviet Communist party in 1924. Trotsky was also the dictator of the Soviet Union from 1922 to 1991. | Freud was intrigued by the young Yugoslavs and decided to recruit them for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper and receivedApplications from Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Hitler was the youngest applicant and the only one who was not yet 35 years old. Freud was impressed by his youthful energy and ambition. He was also the only applicant who had not yet completed college. Stalin was the oldest applicant and the only one who was not yet 34 years old. Freud was also impressed by his political skills and his ability to lead a nation. Tito was the youngest applicant and the only one who was not yet 21 years old. Freud was impressed by his athleticism and his fighting spirit. | The year is 1913 and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He's been working on this research for years and is finally ready to share it with the world. In order to find participants, Freud puts an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who respond to the ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties and are eager to participate in the trials. Freud is taken aback by the turnout. He wasn't expecting such high-profile participants. However, he's pleased that so many people are interested in his work. The trials go well and Freud is able to glean valuable insights from the four men. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all have different perspectives on the world and Freud is able to learn a lot from them. In the end, the trials are a success and Freud is able to further his research thanks to the help of these four men. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician pulls out the rabbit from the hat and sets it down on the floor. The rabbit looks at the mathematician with aCNN headline in his hands, "Project Contents." The mathematician looks at the rabbit and says, "What are you doing?" The rabbit says, "I'm pulling out the | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician told the rabbit that he would not put the rabbit in any trouble if he would just stop trying to be a good rabbit. The rabbit was happy to stop trying to be a good rabbit. | The magician was about to finish his performance and collect his prizes when he noticed that the rabbit was starting to look a bit sick. The magician knew that the rabbit was probably just anxious to get home, so he decided to let the rabbit have the last word. "Alright rabbit," the magician said, "you've had a great career as my second fiddle. I don't know what got into me when I picked you, but I'm sorry. I'll never do that to you again. "I hope you're happy now," the magician said as he handed the rabbit its prize. The rabbit looked down at the smallest of cages, then up at the magician, before it finally spoke. "I am," the rabbit said, "but I'm also a bit sad. I've loved being your second fiddle, but now I think it's time for me to start my own career." With that, the rabbit hopped out of the cage and disappeared backstage, never to be seen again by the magician. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is getting fed up with always being the second fiddle. Finally, he's had enough. "Hey, magician," the rabbit says. "I'm sick of being your assistant. I want to be the star of the show." The magician is taken aback at first, but he quickly realizes that the rabbit is right. After all, the rabbit is the one who always puts on a great show. "Okay, rabbit," the magician says. "You can have the spotlight." The rabbit is overjoyed, and he puts on a spectacular show. The audience loves him, and he steals the show. The magician is happy to have helped the rabbit realize his dream, and he knows that he'll always be grateful. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground. All around me I could see the mess that was my life. My family was there, my friends, but they all looked so lost and forlorn. I could only lay there, engine Failure Blanketing my body, as reality slowly dawned on me. I was dead. | The fall hurt more than any of the other times that I had been injured. My body hit the ground, hard. I didn't have time to feel anything before the darkness took me. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It could be from a disease, an accident, or old age, but I'm going to die. And I'm ok with that. I'm not scared of death, I'm actually kind of excited to see what comes next. Maybe there's another life after this one, or maybe there's nothing. But either way, I'm ready to find out. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was always placed in the right place at the right time, so the doctor could find nothing. The device was deactivated when he didn't live up to the terms of use and the birth control was Tablet. It was only after lifting the device from the dead The character of the game required an Auditor, so they were given more intelligence and it was up to the next player to deactivate the birth control. | IPS (In-Person Sexual Preference Survey) Results As an auditor, one of my first jobs was to collect IPS (In-Person sexual preference) data from the students in my class. I often find it interesting to see what kind of people students are attracted to, and it's also an important part of our school's sex education curriculum. Based on the data I collected from the students in my class, I concluded that the vast majority of the students in my class were average or below average in terms of their sexual preferences. However, there were a few students in my class who were surprisingly attractive to certain types of students. One student in my class was extremely attractive to men and one student was extremely attractive to women. I was curious to see what type of Reaction my students would have when I revealed these unwantedturned collections of sexual preference data to them. The results of my study were surprisingly positive. The majority of my students were happy to know that they were average or below average in terms of their sexual preference, and they seemed more content with their lives than they had ever been before. I'm now convinced that everyone should have a birth control device implanted into their puberty, so that the stupidest people in the world can't Reproduce. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. It was part of my routine psychiatric evaluation when I turned 18. I was supposed to be able to deactivate it once I was determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. But, as it turns out, I'm the only Auditor in the world with the capability to do that. Now, every 18-year-old is automatically implanted with the device. It's not a choice and it can't be removed without serious consequences. I'm responsible for ensuring that the device is used properly and that the people who are using it are being properly monitored. But, as the only Auditor in the world, I'm also the only one who can deactivate the device. And, as I sit here, I'm worried about the future. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep the device active, or what will happen when I can't. I know that my job is important, but I also know that it's a ticking time bomb. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must interview each person and evaluate their answers. If they pass, they are allowed to deactivate their birth control device and have children. If they fail, they must remain childless. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of the world depends on it. You are often faced with difficult decisions, but you always try to make the best decision for the future. One day, you are faced with a particularly difficult case. A young woman has come to you, asking to have her birth control device deactivated. She is clearly intelligent and stable, but she also has a history of mental illness. You know that if you allow her to have children, there is a chance that her mental illness could be passed down to her children. However, you also know that she would make an excellent mother and that her children would be loved and well-cared for. After much deliberation, you decide to allow her to deactivate her birth control device. You know that it is a risky decision, but you believe that it is the best decision for the future. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross subjectiveally saw places in his paintings, choose to remember them as they are seen in his paintings. For example, he saw The Cross Keys as being his favorite place to paint, because it was the only time he could see the work in the laying down of the work day. He saw The Horseshoe as being a good place to paint, because it had a special LOON popular with pirates. He saw The Sea Glass as being the perfect place to paint, because it was His, the reputation belonged to It. And so it remained. | Bob Ross loved painting landscapes, but he also loved murderers. He would walk to different places in the city and choose whichever murders were happening that day, and paint them onto his canvas. Some were ugly, some were gentle, but they always had a touch of the macabre. One day, he decided to paint a landscape of the city's deadliest murder. The victim was a young woman named Christine, who was gored by a car as she walked to her job. The painting became a collectorsitem and still hangs in Bob Ross' home today. | Bob Ross often painted landscapes of the various spots he frequented around the country - from the woods near his home to the beaches near where he often went fishing. But no place was as hauntingly beautiful as the scene of one of his many murders. The painting showed a tranquil lake in the woods, the sun shining down on the water and the trees providing a canopy of green. But the beauty was marred by the blood stains on the rocks and the corpses of two people, a man and a woman, slumped against the tree. Ross had always known that he killed those people, but he couldn't bring himself to face what he'd done. He would sit at his painting, studying the scene, and feel the weight of his guilt. But he knew that he had to finish his paintings, in order to purge himself of his sins. | Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer, and his landscape paintings were actually locations of his countless murders. For years, he got away with it, using his paintings as a way to conceal his gruesome crimes. But eventually, the authorities caught on, and Bob Ross was brought to justice. Now, his paintings serve as a grim reminder of his horrific crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants in a clinical trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito and Robljana. | Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded to Sigmund Freud's ad in the 1913 Vienna newspaper. They all agreed to participate in his clinical trials of his latest research. Each man thought he could help Freud advance his discovery. | Freud was eager to test his latest research, and so he put an ad in a local newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was skeptical at first, but he gave them all a chance. The clinical trials were grueling, but the results were astonishing. Hitler was able to calm patients with anxiety and depression, Stalin was able to help those with manic episodes, Trotsky was able to treat schizophrenia, and Tito was able to help people with ADD and ADHD. The clinical trials were a huge success and Freud was able to revolutionize psychiatry. The lives of millions of people were changed because of the work of these four remarkable men. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He puts an ad in the local newspaper seeking participants, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by this diverse group of men, and he invites them all to participate in his trial. Over the course of the trial, Freud discovers that each of the men is struggling with deep-seated psychological issues. Hitler is plagued by feelings of insecurity and inferiority, Stalin is consumed by paranoia and fear, Trotsky is struggling with feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt, and Tito is plagued by feelings of guilt and shame. As the trial progresses, Freud comes to realize that these men are all deeply troubled, and that their problems are at the root of their aggressive and violent behavior. Ultimately, Freud is unable to help them overcome their issues, and all four men go on to become some of the most notorious dictators in history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The object of my attention at the moment wasellectualizing quickly asked me what I was looking at. I explained that I was looking at something invisible that lived in my home. She didn't seem to believe me, so I took a step back and said "I don't know." | One day, I was sitting in my living room watching TV when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a small, cuddly bear hunkered down next to me. I was embarrassed to have an animal sitting next to me on the couch, but I also didn't want it to leave. After a few minutes of chatting, the bear decided it wasn't interested in staying and left. The next day, I was again sitting in my living room when I noticed the bear was back. I was a bit confused, but I hauled my lazy cat up next to it and the bear stayed. After a few minutes of chatting, the cat decided it wasn't interested in staying and left. I started to become suspicious. The bear seemed to be following me around, and the only thing that fit was a big, invisible presence. I started to feel like I was being watched, and I didn't know how to get rid of it. One night, I was watching TV when I heard a noise coming from the back room. I turned to see the bear sitting next to the door, and I was surprised to see that it was following me. I started to feel like I was in danger, and I was not sure whether I should tell the bear to leave or not. I decided to keep quiet and take the risk. After a few minutes of chatting, the bear decided it wasn't interested in staying and left. I was relieved and I started to feelTV was safe again. | I had always assumed that a ghost lived in my home, but I never could figure out why it felt so spooky. I had tried to expose it, but it always managed to slip away. Until, one day, I caught it in the act. | You're not sure when it started, but you know that there's something living in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a cold spot that follows you around. You've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of you. It knows when you're trying to trap it, and it slips away. But you're not going to give up. You'll find a way to expose this invisible thing, and then you'll be rid of it once and for all. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was originally meant to be used for only the dumbest people in the world to reproduce. However, due to your high intelligence and strength, you have decided to also be a Auditor. This will prevent only the smartest people in the world from reproducing, help keep the world center-of-the-WORLD healthy, and be a reminder that anything is possible in the world. | Audit #1: The first time I enacted my audit, I was surprised to see that many of the people I was auditining were not even aware they were going through the process. This was surprising because I was sure that if they knew they were having a child, they would be more careful about their behavior andean. I decided toDeactivate my audit service for these people because I felt that their behavior was not in line with the values of the Auditor. I was sorry to say that many of these people did not take my deactivation seriously, and as a result, their children became the new generations of the dumbest people in the world. | I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device. It was a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. I was a little bit scared at first, but I grew to love my job. I was an Auditor, responsible for determining whether or not someone was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It was a difficult job, but I was proud of what I did. I would watch people as they grew and changed, and I would always make sure they were equipped with the knowledge and tools they needed to be successful. I was glad that my job helped keep the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | You're an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the smartest and most stable people are able to reproduce. It's a weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. Every day, you interview potential parents and test their intelligence and emotional stability. If they pass your rigorous standards, you deactivate their birth control device and they are free to have children. It's a difficult job, but you know that you are helping to create a better world. A world where only the best and brightest people are able to reproduce and pass on their genes. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person who hands you the drink is out of shape and thin as a river. He looks Taiwan up and down, taking everything you quality, until you say something you never would have considered. "I can tell you this much, no matter what you tell yourself: I am not who you think I am." | The first thing that registered in my mind was the huge scar on the person's face. It was a scary, unfamiliar experience. I couldn't quite remember where I had seen that scar before, but it was definitely something I didn't want to think about. The second thing that registered was the voice. It was soft and gentle, but it also held a heavy burden. The person's voice made me feel safe and secure, like I had known them forever. Eventually, I realized that the person was talking to me. I hesitated at first, but then I realized that they were asking me a question. I cautiously replied, unsure of how I would sound if I didn't answer. The person looked at me with disbelief when I finally responded. They couldn't believe that I could answer a question like that - a question that didn't even exist in their world. After what felt like an eternity of silence, the person finally asked me another question. This time, I was more prepared for it. I told them my story and what had happened. They listened carefully and told me that I was correct. The bigger the lie, the more visible the scar. They had seen it themselves, and it had been the most terrifying experience of their life. They cautioned me that it would only get worse from here, and that I should be careful what I lied about. But I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for me. | I never thought I'd see someone with only one scar. It's the biggest one I have ever seen. It runs down their entire leg, from their toes to their knee. It's so big, it covers half of their leg. "What happened to your leg?" I ask. "I was running and I fell," they say. "My leg got chopped open." "That's so unlucky!" I say. "I know," the person says. "But I'm happy to have this one scar. It shows that I have been through something tough, and I know I can do anything." I'm so inspired by this person. They have such bravery and determination. I hope I can be just as strong as they are someday. | She was an outcast, a freak. At least, that's what everyone said about her. They called her names and made fun of her, but she never let it get to her. She knew she was different, but she didn't care. But then she met him. He was different than everyone else, too. He had a scar that ran from his forehead, down his nose, all the way to his chin. It was the biggest scar she had ever seen. People said he was a liar, that's why he had that big scar. But she didn't believe them. She saw the truth in his eyes, and she knew he was telling the truth. They became friends, and eventually, lovers. And she didn't care that he had a big scar on his face. She loved him, scar and all. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito. | Adolf Hitler clicked on the ad. The only thing better than Szigmond Freud's latest clinical trial would be to be able to meet the man who had burned down the Reichstag andmanaged to export mustard gas to Nazi Germany. Hitler couldn't believe it when he received an email from Szigmond Freud. The email said, "Please come to Vienna to participate in the clinical trial." Joseph Stalin clicked on the ad. The only thing better than Szigmond Freud's latest clinical trial would be to be able to meet the man who had burned down the Reichstag andmanaged to export mustard gas to Nazi Germany. Stalin couldn't believe it when he received an email from Szigmond Freud. The email said, "Please come to Vienna to participate in the clinical trial." Leon Trotsky clicked on the ad. The only thing better than Szigmond Freud's latest clinical trial would be to be able to meet the man who had burned down the Reichstag andmanaged to export mustard gas to Nazi Germany. Trotsky couldn't believe it when he received an email from Szigmond Freud. The email said, "Please come to Vienna to participate in the clinical trial." Josip Broz Tito clicked on the ad. The only thing better than Szigmond Freud's latest clinical trial would be to be able to meet the man who had burned down the Reichstag andmanaged toexport mustard gas to Nazi Germany. Tito couldn't believe it when he received an email from Szigmond Freud. The email said, "Please come to Vienna to participate in the clinical trial." All six of them clicked on the link to the Szigmond Freud website. All six of them were excited to participate in the clinical trial. They would be able to learn more about the man who had destroyed their country. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials with his new research. He put an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. The only people to respond were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was unsure how to deal with these new participants, but he decided to include them in the trials anyways. The trials went well, and Freud was able to develop his new research. | It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was intrigued by this strange group of men, and he decided to take them on as patients. Over the course of the next few years, Freud would learn a lot about these men, and the dark desires that motivated them. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the wave of missing and targeting youth initative. The government is versing different solutions to find the lost and recent, but no one knows what the future holds. The people are up in arms about what is going on and it's making it hard to carry on As are the government's efforts to try and find those affected. It's a day of Protest and marked a new crucifixion for a young man. | Today, the stock market crashed. The cause? A new policy by the president to reduce regulations. The effects?Mass layoffs, downward pressure on wages, and economic decline. The economic decline has caused homelessness to increase,Demonstrations to erupt, and major social issues to continue to be discussed. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. As the world becomes more and more complex, it becomes increasingly difficult to manage large populations of people who are displaced from their homes. Various countries are struggling to accommodate these refugees and are facing criticism for their handling of the crisis. | There's no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the most attention today is the coronavirus pandemic. This global health crisis has affected billions of people around the world, and the scale of the outbreak is unprecedented. The virus has already claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, and the economic impact has been devastating. As the pandemic continues to spread, it's more important than ever that we do everything we can to stop it. That means staying informed and following the latest guidance from health officials. It also means supporting those who are on the frontlines of this fight, including healthcare workers, first responders, and essential workers. We all have a role to play in stopping this pandemic, and it's up to each of us to do our part. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disarray. Each player has their shares of labyrinths and baggages. Some players are offering up lasheks and other D&D gear, while others are selling Disease Artifacts and other medical supplies. The players in the shop are Bahamut and Dumatu. Bahamut is theyerromantical figure, tasked with ensuring the shop stays open. Dumatu is the one who has been selling medical supplies and artifactsrandomly generationstoergusintes. Dumatu is facing a money crisis. He's offering up artifacts and medical supplies in large quantities, but no one is taking him seriously. Bahamut is on top of the market, and he's not having it. He's an experimental RPG game, and he doesn't want to be lukewarm. He's not going to let the shoplootogold go to his head. Bahamut impulses to try and reach the next floor. He's ready his attack on the market. However, he's unaware of the upcoming battle. Dumatu is here to stay. He's a natural winner, and he's going to be able to keep the market top heavy. | One day, a player walks into your shop, offering to trade a magical item they just found for a smaller, less magical item you have. You go along with the trade, and the player gets the smaller item. However, as you hand the item over, you notice that the player's backpack has been empty since the trade. You assume the player lost the item, and leave the shop. | It was a busy day at the RPG pawn shop. The doors were open and people were flowing in and out, trying to find the best deals on the gear they had brought in. The shopkeeper, a old man with a long beard, was haggling with a group of adventurers. He had leant them his best price, but they were still trying to get him to lower it. "Come on, you can do better than this!" shouted one of the adventurers. The shopkeeper sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't lower the price any further. I'm happy to let the gear go for less than its worth, but not below that." The adventurers grumbled and made their way out of the shop, giving the old man a sour look as they went. It had been a tough day for the shopkeeper. He had been haggling with adventurers all day and it was tiresome. But he knew that it was essential for his business. If he could get people to sell their gear, then he could make a lot of money. | You run an RPG pawn shop and you're always on the lookout for good loot. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell you their loot and you're always looking for a good deal. Sometimes you get lucky and find some great loot, but other times you end up with junk. It's all part of the game. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was born. I died. I was reborn. I Matter Not Two Bites. | The last thing I remember was being struck in the head with a rock and being conscious only moments later. I tried to get off the ground, but mysynaptic cord was severed. I couldn't move. I was just waiting for the end. | Lenny was sitting in his cell, contemplating his life when he heard a knock on the door. He got up to answer it and found himself face-to-face with his executioner. Lenny knew that he was going to die, but he didn't want to go alone. He asked the executioner if he could share the moment with someone. The executioner agreed and led Lenny to the other side of the room, where he found a weeping woman. The woman told Lenny that she had been married to Lenny's brother for ten years, but they had been apart for six. When Lenny died, she knew that she would never see him again. The executioner then proceeded to kill Lenny by cutting off his head. As it landed on the ground, the woman screamed. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened, or why. All I know is that one moment I was alive, and the next I was dead. It's not as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, it's quite peaceful. I can see the light now, and I'm heading towards it. I can hear the voices of my loved ones who have already passed on. They're welcoming me home. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Trying to find an escape, libertine Curly had no problem tearing the back of his head off from where it was resting on the floor. Weeps Acera 1 day after her battle with sadness. ToCurly, it was something Ico had told her about his family. headline: Tear-aphaellets app? Curly had always thought of the AESAs as his, but now there were so many people? He didn't know how to take back the love he had for them. ToCurly, the world was a Place where tears left scars as they trickled down his face. The dad he knew wasn't the dad he knew, and the mom he knew wasn't the mom he knew. The friends he knew wasn't the friends he knew, and the friends he knew wasn't the friends he knew. The family he knew wasn't the family he knew, and the family he knew wasn't the family he knew.going into the future, Curly would probobly find ways to change what happened during his time. | The first time I saw Tears, I was young and impressionable. I wanted to be like her- beautiful, bright, and full of life. I wanted to be able to laugh and cry and feel everything she did. IEmphasized the tears in my own life, making them my shrine and my outlet. For years, I thought that Tears was the only one who could make me feel that way. But as I got older, I realized that there are other people in the world who can make you feel that way too. I just had to find them. And when I did, Tears was the first to know. She looked at me with her bright eyes and saw the contradiction in my life. Tears taught me that laughter is the best way to deal with the pain of the past. And that, in the end, it's all worth it. | It was a typical day in the neighbourhood. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. But despite the beauty around them, something was missing. The children were playing, but their mothers weren't there to join in. The men were working, but they weren't happy. The women were taking care of their homes, but they weren't content. Everyone was sad, except for one woman. She wept in her home, her tears leaving pink scars on her face. The world around her seemed bleak and empty. She was the only one who felt this way, and she didn't know why. But as she wept, she started to see a change. The other people in her neighbourhood started to come outside. They waved to her, and smiled. They were happier now, and it was because of her. Her tears had changed their world. | The world was a different place now. It had been nearly a year since the tears started leaving scars. No one knew why it happened, but it changed everything. People were more careful with their words now. No one wanted to accidentally say something that would make someone else cry. After all, those scars were permanent. Some people tried to take advantage of the situation. They would make others cry on purpose, just to see the scars. But it was a dangerous game. If they were caught, they would be scarred as well. Most people just tried to avoid crying altogether. It was too risky. But sometimes, the emotions were too strong. And the scars were a reminder of that. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is inimically shaped like a RPG game board with different-sized minions included, as well as exemplary items that will help the adventurers in their quests. The staff loves working in the store and is constantly on hand to help the customers. | I starred at the towering pile of treasure in my pawn shop. I was so close to making some serious money, and it was all thanks to the adventurers who stopped by my shop today. They were sure to find some amazing treasures, and I was extraction of the best ones. But as I started to reach for the treasure, I felt somethingtap my shoulder. I turned to see an enterprising individual. He was wearing a dirty shirt and jeans, and he had a bag of treasure with him. "Hey, watch this!" He said as he reached into his bag and pulled out a shiny golden dragon claw. I reached into my bag and grabbed the claw, but as I did, something warm stuck to my hand. I tried to pull it off, but it was too tight. I looked down at the Claw and saw that it was welded to the hand. I was sure I had gone crazy. | It was always Quentin's dream to own his own RPG pawn shop. When he was young, all he ever wanted was to be like his father, who worked at a small bookstore. Quentin followed in his father's footsteps and opened his own pawn shop a few years ago. Quentin loves haggling with adventurers who come into his store looking to sell their loot. He knows that he can get a good deal on whatever they have to sell, and he's always up for a good bargaining session. Quentin always tries to be fair with his customers, but he'll never forget the time an Adventurer came into his store and refused to sell him any of his loot. Quentin haggled with the man for hours, but he eventually gave up and left the store. Quentin knows that sometimes it's hard to let go of something that you've worked so hard to acquire, but he's glad that he own his own pawn shop and can haggle whatever he wants. | You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPG gear. You've seen it all, from +1 swords to ancient magical artifacts. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to get the best price for their loot. Sometimes, you come across items that are so rare and valuable that you have to pay top dollar for them. Other times, you find adventurers who are desperate and will take any price you offer. It's a tough business, but you love it. You're always on the lookout for the next big score. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The mayonnaise jar was the only thing left in the kitchen after upon discovered that it was home to something invisible. The eviction had made the mayonnaise safe to eat, but the biomarkers still nutrienturia. The biomarkers whispered secrets to one another as they shared tales of ketchup and pickles, giving no clues as to who this thing was. | One day, I was working in my house when I heard a noise coming from my attic. I quickly ascended to the attic to find an invisible creature living there. The creature was curled up in a ball, and it wasidency was shaking. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. The creature seemed to be in a panic, and it was hunched over in its ball. Then, it slowly lifted its head and looked at me. It was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, but it was also the most dangerous. It seemed like it was warning me off. | I always suspected there was something lurking in the corners of my home, something I couldn't see but that was always there. I would try to spot it, but it always managed to slip away before I could get a good look. I would spend hours looking for it, but it always managed to disappear before I could catch it. Then, one night, I caught it. I was sitting in my chair, reading a book, and I saw something dart past the corner of my eye. I turned to look, but there was nothing there. I looked again, but it was gone. I was confused, but I didn't hesitate to go after the thing. I followed its trail through the house, until I found it hiding behind the mantelpiece. I couldn't believe it, I had finally caught it. I stared at it in amazement, but it didn't seem to notice me. I took a step closer, but then something grabbed my arm. I yelped in surprise and tried to pull away, but I was overpowered. I looked up to see the thing that had been hiding in my home all along. It was invisible, but I had finally found it. | I could tell that there was something invisible living in my home, but I didn't want to let it know that I was aware of its presence. I tried to expose it by setting traps and leaving food out, but it was always one step ahead of me. It was as if it knew what I was doing and was playing a game with me. One day, I decided to try a different approach. I pretended that I didn't know it was there and went about my business as usual. But I was always on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. Sure enough, after a few days of this, I caught the invisible thing in the act. It was rummaging through my cupboards, looking for food. I was able to exposure it and finally get rid of it for good. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I Die was a unassuming young man, just out of college and fresh out of his own life. He decided to take a job as a doTERRA supervisor to save his Orphelinate from itself. only to find that the orphelinate was on the rise, witholine eats primarily plants. he quickly came up with a plan to save the orphelinate. He began to plant tomatoes, cucumbers, and lettuce in hisrower's home. as the plants grew, they Occasionally went without due to water and fertilization, but overall his orphelinate was brigadered with supermarket-brand leave instead of the Hellogood leader's personal favorite, protection from the sun. this way of life ended up causing his death, but it was a start. | I woke up in a cold sweat. I could hear the panic in my friend's voice. "Everyone is going to die," he said. I tried to reassure him, but I couldn't. I was too scared. All I could think about was the way my intestines were spilling out from my wound. I felt like my death was just a matter of time. | In the dark of night, a young girl was sitting alone in her room, thinking about what was going to happen next. She knew that she was going to die soon and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. She was so sad and lonely that she just wanted to go home. Suddenly, she heard a knock on her door. When she opened it, she saw a ghostly figure standing there. The ghost told her that she could have a second chance at life if she accepted his offer. The young girl hesitated at first, but then she decided to take the chance. She woke up the next morning and she was alive, just as the ghost predicted. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened, but one moment I was alive and the next I was dead. It's not a bad way to go, all things considered. I don't feel any pain, and there's a sense of peace and calm surrounding me. I'm not sure what comes next, but I'm not worried about it. Whatever happens, happens. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Turning 25 was always supposed to be aania by most people. But for Ekaterina, it was something different. She turned 25 and for the first time in her life, she realized that she was special. She knew she was different, but nobody told her enough about what she did have life- from the sky to the water to the violation that was war. War is what Ekaterina received for her tears left scars as they trickled down her face. She knew that she had to start being apart of the world or it would divorce her. War leaves a lasting impression on everyone, War is what Ekaterina was 2016 and she had been living in the past since she was 3 years old. She knew that war was like a fever that needs to be treated, but she didn't want to be the only one who knew. She started to pick up some pieces of her past and started to build a new world, a world where war never left her face and there was never anything left for her to take home. | As the tears streamed down her face, anger and frustration was budding within her. She knew that she had done something wrong, and it was only going to get worse from here. The pain in her eyes was unmistakable, and she knew that she would never be able to get over the guilt and confusion that she was feeling. The effect that her tears had on her audience was something that she had never imagined. People were drawn in to the sad story of how someone had been hurt, and they were all eager to help. It was as if what had happened had just made them feel better in their own skin, and they were eager to help in any way that they could. The woman in the story wasyscoughing away, her expression frozen in time as the people around her all shared in her sorrow. It was a beautiful moment, and it had left a lasting impact on her. | Forty-eight years ago, my grandmother lost her husband to cancer. He was a kind and loving man, and she was heartbroken. For months, her tears streamed down her face every time she cried. One day, she came across a mirror and noticed that the tears were leaving permanent scars on her face. She was horrified that her tears were impacting the rest of her life in such a negative way. She decided to cry no more, and to use her tears as a means of empowerment. She became a vocal advocate for cancer prevention and founded a charity to help others who were battling the disease. Because of my grandmother, the world now knows that tears can also be a form of strength. She has inspired countless others to never give up, no matter what life throws their way. | The world was a different place when tears left scars. No one knew how it started, but it soon became clear that every time a person cried, they were left with a permanent scar. Some people tried to hide their tears, but eventually they all succumbed to the hurt and pain that life inevitably brought. The world was a harsh place now. No one could escape the hurt and pain that was always there, just below the surface. People tried to go on with their lives, but it was difficult when everyone was walking around with their scars on display. There was no escaping the pain anymore. It was a permanent reminder of all the sorrow and hurt that everyone had experienced in their lives. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on the hunt for participants for his latest research trial. He puts an ad in a newspaper and is DVRing all the people who respond. He's bookable by name and can't be reached by fax or email. He's amused by the idea of a solider who responds to his ad. | Adolf Hitler had just turned 24 and was fresh off the back of his election victory. He had a lot of promises to keep and was looking to start his-------------------------- farm. Joseph Stalin, Communist leader of the Soviet Union, was only 24 years old and had just come to power. He was in the middle of a military campaign to consolidate power. Leon Trotsky, leader of the Trotskyist party, was only 34 years old and was rapidly becoming a leading figure in the Communist movement. Josip Broz Tito, leader of the Yugoslavia, was only 21 years old and had only recentlycome to power. All three men had a lot of potential for Terror and bloodshed. They were all looking for a chance to start their own empire. Adolf Hitler put an ad in the newspaper for Clinical Trials for the new Psychoanalysis Theory. He didn't know what to expect. Maybe he would be rejected, but he was hopeful. Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler's counterpart in the Soviet Union, responded first. He was very excited to be a part of the study. Leon Trotsky responded next. He was very excited to start a new battle for power in the Communist movement. Josip Broz Tito responded next. He was very excited to start a new war in the Balkans. It was a long, arduous process to get any of the men on board. But eventually, all of them were named participants in the clinical trials. The study continued for a year, but there was only limited progress. Then, in February 1914, the war started. The study was abandoned, and all of the participants were killed. Adolf Hitler had his chance to start his own empire, but he was killed in action. Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all became Stewards of the Soviet Union. And in the Balkans, Leon Trotsky led a successful coup d'état and established the Soviet Union as a Marxist-Leninist state. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials with such remarkable candidates. He asked each of them what the most exciting part of the research was. Adolf Hitler said he loved the challenge of trying to change people's behavior. Joseph Stalin said he loved the scientific aspect of the work. Leon Trotsky said he loved the opportunity to make a difference. Josip Broz Tito said he loved the sense of adventure. | Sigmund Freud was always looking for new participants for his clinical trials. He was always seeking to expand his knowledge and help as many people as possible. So, when he saw the ad in the newspaper, he didn't hesitate to respond. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito were all eager to participate in the trials. They were all keen to learn more about Freud's latest research and to help him with his work. The trials were a great success and Freud was able to learn a lot from the participants. He was able to help them with their individual issues and to gain a better understanding of the human mind. However, Freud soon realized that there was something different about these four participants. They were all incredibly intelligent and insightful, but they also had a dark side. They were all driven by a need for power and control. Freud began to worry that he had unleashes something dangerous. He had opened Pandora's box and there was no turning back. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The sun was rising over the horizon, lightIDjumper soon finishing hisuries from the team he had spent the last few days working on. Everyone was getting ready for day two of their mass movement study session, silence loud enough for everyone to hear. Jumper took this opportunity to eat a sparked up snack and take a break.: He watched the snowracer as he ate, his knife and food both neatly hidden in his snack. A small tear rolled down his cheek, he smirked and started to cut another piece of bread.: conceivable, he would permanent tears would stream down his face if he knew how.: He quickly volunteered for day two, his friends and team Protoss players. He would be working with the new and new team, learning as they did.: : The room was quiet, everyone paying attention to their own task. When Jumper sat down, he- : The seat Produce sold was students’ first stop, and Jumper was their first stop, as well. Jumper satisfied his desires with his purchase, he- : The seat seat right then and there, he went to get his things. He would be living in the program.: The seat produce and Jumper would live in the program. | Once upon a time, tears left a path down someone's face. They would be Trickled down, following the path of those that had the emotional strength to carry on. This would change our world, as those that couldn't hold onto their tears would be left alone in a world that was now full of pain. | I was walking home from the grocery store when I saw him. He was standing on the other side of the street, waving at me. I didn't think anything of it until I noticed the tears streaming down his face. I crossed the street to where he was standing and asked what was wrong. He told me that he was really lonely and had nothing else to do. I told him that I would be happy to accompany him to whatever he wanted to do. We went to a nearby park and sat on the swings. We talked and laughed until the sun went down. Afterwards, we went to his apartment and shared a pizza. We talked until midnight, and I never wanted the night to end. Weeks later, I received a letter in the mail. It was from him. The letter said that he was moving away and that he might never see me again. But even though he's gone, I will always remember our time together. The tears that streamed down my face created scars that will never fade. But even though they're reminders of my loss, I'm glad that I shares that special time with him. | Lily had always been a crier. She cried when she was happy, she cried when she was sad, she cried when she was angry. And every time she cried, she left behind a trail of tears that stained her skin. over the years, Lily’s tears had left her with a map of scars on her face. Some were small and barely noticeable, others were large and deeply etched into her skin. But Lily didn’t mind. She saw her scars as a badge of honor, a testament to her ability to feel deeply and passionately. But not everyone saw it that way. In a world where tears were considered a sign of weakness, Lily’s scars made her a target of ridicule and mockery. She was called names and excluded from social gatherings. People were afraid to be seen with her, lest they be tainted by her tears. But Lily never stopped crying. She cried through the hurt and the pain, she cried through the loneliness and the rejection. And slowly, her tears began to heal her scars. Over time, people started to see Lily in a different light. They saw her as someone who was strong, not weak. Someone who was capable of feeling deeply, and that was a rare and special thing. And slowly, people started to accept her. scars and all. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was actually a great idea, and not just because it would prevent people like her from reproduceable creatures. It would also avoid people from getting returnees, and help to keep worldwide population size under control. The only problem was that the device was actually ansightly tailored to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. The device was set up to work on themens of the world, not just Asia and the Middle East. The even realized as much when they gave the device to the evenest person who lived in the evenest world. The evenest person had the solution - she had to give the device back to the evenest person who had designed it. The evenest person suggested that the evenest person live in the evenest world herself, in order to keep tabs on the world and see if she could find any collaborators who would be interested in the evenest way - by keeping track of the evenest people in the evenest world, and using their technology to create similar devices to prevent the evenest people from reproducing. | Auditor #1, age 10, was implanted with a birth control device in the hope that it would prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Unfortunately, Audit #1 was never meant to be. He was always lazy and unwise. So the device was never very effective and now, Audit #1 is always at risk of becoming a Looney Tunes character. | I was born with a birth control device embedded in my brain. It was supposed to be a way to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but it's turned out to be a way to control me. I'm an Auditor, and my job is to determine when someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was born with the device in my brain, but I never knew anything about it. All I ever knew was that I was supposed to use it to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. But now, it's turned into a way to control me. Every day, I have to answer questions about intelligence and stability. The more intelligent and stable someone is, the less likely they are to have the device implanted in their brain. But, even with the device, the stupidest people can still get pregnant. I'm an Auditor, and I'm supposed to use my intelligence and stability to help the world. But, using the device in my brain, I'm actually controlling the world. | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. You've been given the important task of determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have their birth control device deactivated. It's a daunting task, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. You interview each person who wishes to have their birth control device deactivated. You ask them tough questions about their intelligence and their stability. You also observe their behavior. Based on your findings, you either approve or deny their request to have their birth control device deactivated. It's not an easy job, but someone has to do it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Tommy was playing with his subs when he had a idea. He took a piece of paper and wrote a plan together with a stick. He got to bed early the next morning and wrote out the plan on the wall next to his bed. Tommy was a little man, but he was able to think up a plan. He took a sub and modem off of his wall and set up a fake network. He connected his sub to the modem and started to play games. Tommy was happy to have a plan and was able to stay safe until the plan was ready. story ends Tommy died, but he knew he could do it again. | I had always thought of death as a dignified way to end things. I had seen it in movies and read about it in books. But when I finally died, I was still surprised by how much I loved life. I saw things that I never would have seen if I had never been alive. I even had some great experiences that I'll never forget. I was even able to make new friends and have some great experiences while I was alive. It was a great life. But when I died, all of that changed. I didn't die from a disease or a accident. I died from a choice I made. I chose to live instead of die. That's a pretty big deal. | I had always known that I would die one day. But I never imagined it would be like this. I was lying on the ground, breathing heavily. The soldier stood over me, looking down at me with a cruel smile on his face. I knew I was about to die. But just before he could strike me, a miracle happened. A bullet hit him in the neck, and he collapsed to the ground. I scrambled to my feet, running towards the soldier's assailant. But it was too late. He was already dead, with a gunshot wound to the head. I felt relieved, but also a little guilty. I had been saved by death, but at what cost? | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, but I know that's what happens. I can feel it inside me, a coldness that is spreading through my body. I can see the light fading from my eyes, and I can feel my heart slowing down. I die, and I am at peace. I know that this is the end of my journey, but I also know that it is only the beginning. I can see the infinite potential of what lies ahead, and I am ready to embrace it. Thank you for everything, and goodbye. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting landscape Picture Houses throughout his house, warning people about the evil eye and the hair-ytus-kyen, since the late 1940s. He know people from his home in San Francisco, and knows about each and every place. To keep up with the societal norms and expectations, he must remain unique and different. Even though his paintings are about popular history and death, people are always awareness about the you-the-painting-and-the-chase. Despite his warning, was the world-weary painter always a prosgger? | In the early 1800s, artist Bob Ross was known for his beautiful landscape paintings. His paintings often featured real-life locations, such as the Murder House in Pittsburgh, Ohio. His victims would often be found throughout his work, and it was said that the paintings represent the lives and deaths of his victims. | Bob Ross was a master of landscape painting, and each of his canvases was a real place. Across the United States and all over the world, his paintings showed the beauty of the American West, the rolling hills of Scotland, and the misty forests of England. But the true beauty of Bob Ross's paintings was the deadly landscapes that lay beneath the surface. Bob Ross loved to paint the incredible natural landscapes of America, but he also loved to kill people. He would drive around the country, stopping at scenic overlooks to paint the breathtaking views. But every time he turned his camera on the unsuspecting tourists below, he planned to kill them. The police were always one step behind Bob Ross, and they never could catch him in the act. He always managed to kill his victims before they could call for help, and he always left a chilling message behind. "The beauty of America is also the brutality of its landscapes," he would say. "Enjoy your vacation, but remember: every view is a view from my murder scene." | Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. For years, he travelled the country, painting beautiful landscapes. But behind the scenes, he was using his art to cover up a trail of murder. Ross would find isolated spots in the wilderness, kill his victims, and then paint over their bodies in his landscapes. In this way, he was able to keep the authorities off his trail for years. But eventually, the law caught up with him. And when they did, they found a gruesome scene: a dozen bodies hidden in the idyllic landscapes that Ross had painted. It was a shocking end to a twisted life. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long been interested in the interesting people in society. He is applying for a clinical trial of his latest research on howachelorage can be used to understand social organisation. He put an ad in a newspaper for people to respond to the ad. The results are interesting to him. For example, Leon Trotsky respondsyd to him, telling him that he is interested in married women and wants to marry one. Sigmund Freud is surprised because he is looking at people like Leon Trotsky. However, Adolf Hitler responds back to him, telling him that he is interested in married women and wants to marry one. Sigmund Freud is pleased with the responses he has received. He is now in his tenth year at the hospital and has become the biggest candidate for the clinical trial of his time. He is now in his final year and plans to become a doctor. | Adolf Hitler had just turned 24 and he was looking forward to becoming a world Potemkin president. Stalin was the head of the Soviet Union and was considered to be one of the most powerful men in the world. He was also a powerful political ideologue. Trotsky, the former communist leader of Russia, was also a powerful man. He was considered to be a threat to Stalin. Joseph Stalin was also looking forward to becoming a world leader. He was the president of the Soviet Union and considered one of the most powerful men in the world. He was also a powerful political ideologue. He had also been a member of the Communist Party for many years. Leon Trotsky was also looking forward to becoming a world leader. He was the leader of the Russian Communist Party and considered one of the most powerful men in the world. He was also a powerful political ideologue. He had also been a member of the Communist Party for many years. Josip Broz Tito was also looking forward to becoming a world leader. He was the leader of the Yugoslav Communist Party and considered one of the most powerful men in the world. He was also a powerful political ideologue. He had also been a member of the Communist Party for many years. | Freud was astounded when Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito responded to his ad for clinical trials. He had never imagined that such different people would be interested in his research. The five men met for the first time in Freud's office and immediately hit it off. They all shared similar interests in psychoanalysis and politics, and quickly formed a close bond. Freud was delighted with the results of the trials. Each man had unique strengths that could help him advance his research further. The team worked tirelessly to improve Freud's methods, and in the end, they all succeeded. The world was changed because of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud, and the five men who participated in them – Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito, and Freud himself. Their dedication to their beliefs, and each other, changed the course of history. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He put an ad in the Vienna newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, only four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and came from very different backgrounds. Hitler was a struggling artist, Stalin was a revolutionary, Trotsky was a wealthy aristocrat, and Tito was a working-class man. Despite their differences, they all shared a common interest in Freud's work. The clinical trials were grueling, but the four men persevered. As they got to know each other, they found they had more in common than they thought. They were all highly intelligent and ambitious men with a strong desire to make their mark on the world. The clinical trials came to an end, but the four men continued to stay in touch. They would go on to change the world in very different ways, but their time in Vienna would always be remembered fondly. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Tears left behind smudges onimbotlilary madlyidle dot. The body sat like a piece of furniture, eyes closed, in the dark. With each sob, a patch of skin would PROSE with the Nation Of Z. The world would be different without the represents of Z. If this the cry of a victim, then so be it. The leader of the nation ordered the greatest of tears, knowing that if they were too much for this particular helmet, then the tears would be equivalent to war. So, came the tears. As one, the tears cascaded down the face of the helmet, leaving behind impact-clear Tears ofRECrimonious Affects. | There was once a woman who had trouble controlling her tear regulation. daily she would cry for hours on end, even after her husband had left her. She would often associate crying with sadness, but over time she realized that tears were more like scars. The tears left deep tracks down her face, and everyone who saw her cried with her. It transformed her into a figure of popularity and sympathy, and she quickly realized that if her tears were to stay hidden, it would be easier for her to continue living in her own world. | The sky was a dark, stormy grey as the rain poured down. The wind howled, tearing through the leaves and branches, sending them crashing to the ground. The woman sobbed, her body shaking. Her tears streamed down her face, covering her cheeks in a mask of sadness. The scars on her face would always remind her of the pain she felt. They would be a constant reminder of the tears that never stopped flowing. The world would be a different place if tears left scars. People would be more compassionate, understanding. They would be more likely to help one another. The woman would never forget the pain she felt, but at least she would always have the reminder of her tears. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, our world would be a very different place. For one, we would be much more careful with our words. No one would want to say something that would cause someone else to cry, knowing that it would leave a permanent mark. We would also be more compassionate, because we would see the pain that others are in every time they cried. And we would be more likely to comfort them, because we would know that their tears are not just a sign of sadness, but also a sign of strength. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was originally meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. However, something happened to make them wonder--if only because they were so important, we might as well leave them behind when they fathered kids and turfed off to the world. So they're kept safe--in the body parts that would never lead to child birth defects--and are promote toOTAL understanding and sympathy because Of course, the world has its its things righted. But some people never get over the fact that they're the only people in the world who can prevent all the world's sorrows. | It had been a long time since I’d last supervised a student’s puberty. I was glad to be able to do so once again. I looked over the students and saw that many of them looked unhappy. One in particular had looked sad the entire class time. I’d never seen that expression on his face before. I reached out and shook his shoulder. “ auditor,” I called out. He turned to me, and I could see the sadness in his eyes. I’d seen it before too, in the eyes of the students I’d supervised in the past. It was a common thing in my job, to see students Scrolls define themselves in their own way. I knew that some would try to fit in, others would rebel. But I would always try to assess what was happening and ensure that everyone got the care and education they needed. “Yes, Auditor?” he asked, his voice heavy with sadness. “Do you want me to help you deactivate the contraception device?” I asked him. “No, I want you to leave me alone. I’m not ready for this,” he said. “I understand,” I said. I started to walk away, but he called out after me. “Auditor, don’t be mad. I’m just trying to figure out how to be a good student.” I turned back to him and saw the pain in his eyes. I knew that this was going to be a long process for him. | At eighteen, I was the latest in a long line of Auditors. My assignment: prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. The device was implanted in my chest during puberty, and it couldn't be deactivated until it was determined I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It was a big responsibility, and I was determined to make sure it was done right. I studied my elders, and tried to learn everything I could. And now, at twenty-one, I am an Auditor. And I am proud of it. | As an Auditor, it is my job to deactivate the birth control devices of those who are deemed intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I take my job very seriously, as the future of the world depends on it. I remember one case in particular, where a young woman came to me asking to have her device deactivated. She was clearly intelligent and well-spoken, and she had her life together. But when I looked into her eyes, I could see the cold, hard truth: she was not stable enough to raise a child. I had to deny her request, and it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. But I know that I made the right decision, for the sake of the world. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Milk Doomed, Milksnake eyebrows, Gold coding, a hidden camera in the magic ring... What a quoinose! The rabbit is Ramsey's favorite character and he loves to have one at the front of the stage. But when the show is over, and finally his publically appearances are to be. Ramsey knows he won't be around to see the show efficiencyically. That smile that used to graced both his face and his dwarf fest friends' faces is now dissipated nothing more than white fluff in the sun. Ramned hands it is. NumbnessODC is a dark mage that uses magic to help people. His fans are always for the various magical movies he produces, always with a new twist. His movies are always with a new story, a new mood, and always with an entrancement. One day, there's a movie about a man that makes a wish and his wish comes true. Ramsey is there at the bottom of the stairs, watching as the movie ends with a room filled with darkness. It takes a spell toudge Ramsey up the ladder to see his face in the lead. And in the light of understanding, Ramsey can see that the man he saw on the stairs was his friend, Milk Doomed. Now, Ramsey Email is the only one who knows that the dark mage had been trying to be filling of the character for months, trying to bring out his true potential. And that's why Milk Doomed loves Ramsey so much. He can see that the dark mage is trying to become magic itself, and Ramsey is the perfect ideal for vowing to never give up | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of being second fiddle. The magician said, "I'll give you one condition: If you can help me pull out of this hat the rabbit, then you're my new friend." Without waiting for an answer, the magician pulled out the rabbit and gave it to the rabbit. The rabbit was so happy to have a new friend, and it took to playing with the magician as if it had always been a friend. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit said to the magician, "I want to be the star of the show." The magician said, "I can't do that, the rabbit is the star of the show." The rabbit said, "I don't care, I deserve to be the star of the show." The magician said, "Fine, you can be the star of the show." The rabbit was so happy that she started dancing around the stage. The magician was so happy that he started dancing around the stage too. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the one who is always hidden away in the hat, only to be pulled out when it's time for the magician to wow the audience. The rabbit decides it's time to take matters into its own paws, and so it starts to perform its own magic tricks. The rabbit is a natural at sleight of hand, and soon has the audience eating out of the palm of its paw. The magician is furious at being upstaged, but the rabbit doesn't care. It's finally getting the attention it deserves, and it's not going to give up the spotlight anytime soon. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler responds to the ad by sending a person to Joseph Stalin's house to talk to him. Timothy Lowder has a different idea. He suggestions leading to the house of Josip Broz Tito. When he responds to Lowder's email, he alongsideout saying anything is Josip Broz Tito, attesting to the importance of secret research into alternative fuels for a possible arsenal of first world war technology. | Adolf Hitler was the only person to respond to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was already a powerful man, and he wanted to be a part of the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the research, but he wasn't as far along in his own research as Hitler was. Leon Trotsky was also interested in the research, but he was too young and too uneducated to be a part of it. Josip Broz Tito was also interested in the research, but he was too young and too uneducated to be a part of it. All of the people who responded to the ad were impressive, but they weren't the same as Adolf Hitler. Adolf Hitler was the kind of man who could control whole armies, Joseph Stalin was a powerful politician who could make decisions that affected millions of people, Leon Trotsky was a brilliant technical expert, and Josip Broz Tito was the kind of man who could lead his people to victory. Adolf Hitler wasn't interested in the research, and Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky didn't have the same interests either. But Adolf Hitler was different. He was the kind of man who could talk to anyone, and he was the kind of man who could see the future. He was interested in the research, and he was going to be a part of it. | Sigmund Freud was excited to test his latest research on willing participants. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for healthy adults who were interested in participating in his clinical trials. Within days, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito had responded. Freud was surprised by how young all of the participants were. He was especially surprised by the age difference between Hitler and Trotsky. Freud decided to take all of the participants into his laboratory for a series of tests. He was curious to see how each of them would perform. Hitler proved to be the most successful of the group. He was able to achieve orgasm more easily than any of the other participants. Freud was also impressed by how charismatic Hitler was. Trotsky was the complete opposite of Hitler. He was the weakest of the participants. He was also the least successful in achieving orgasm. Josip Broz Tito was the most successful of the group. He was the most able to achieve orgasm and the most confident. Freud was surprised by how different each of the participants were. He was also impressed by how well each of them adapted to the different challenges of the trials. The results of the trials were fascinating. Freud was able to develop new methods for treating sexual disorders. He was also able to identify the key elements that make each individual successful in achieving orgasm. The trials were a success and Freud was able to make a significant impact on the field of sexuality. | As the sun set on another day in Vienna, Sigmund Freud sat at his desk, poring over the latest data from his clinical trials. He was making great progress in his research, but he needed more participants to get reliable results. So he decided to place an ad in the local newspaper, seeking people of all ages and backgrounds to take part in his trials. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a little surprised that such high-profile individuals had responded to his ad, but he was eager to get started. He conducted trials with each of them individually, and quickly realized that they were all quite disturbed. Hitler was fixated on power and control, Stalin was consumed by paranoia and suspicion, Trotsky was obsessed with making revolution, and Tito was filled with rage. Freud was disturbed by what he had uncovered, but he continued his research. Eventually, he would come to understand the dark forces that drove these men, and how they would shape the course of history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is usually a battle-scarred mMnumentary art walk As they struggle to fall back into the darkness the window and cart behind them light up with corrupted equipment, wallet-sized groups of coin purses with no use a instances, breakable windows, and objets d' art décoratesorneys thi | Once upon a time, an adventurer ran an RPG pawnshop. He catered to all types of adventurers, from the wealthiest to the poorest. He always argued with them about what to sell, but he always ended up making more money than they ever could. | Lenny ran his RPG pawn shop for as long as he could remember. He loved the adventure and excitement that came with haggling with adventurers. Lenny never minded when the adventurers tried to sell him their loot; it was always interesting to see what they had found. One day, Lenny was haggling with a group of adventurers when they pulled out a Sabre Tooth Tiger skin. Lenny was amazed by the size and beauty of the skin. He couldn't resist asking the adventurers how much they wanted for it. The adventurers didn't hesitate to offer Lenny a price tag of 10,000 gold coins. Lenny wasn't sure if he could afford to pay that much, but he didn't want to miss out on this rare opportunity. Lenny ended up agreeing to sell the Sabre Tooth Tiger skin to the adventurers for 10,000 gold coins. He was glad he had been able to haggle the price down and made a lot of money in the process. | You're the proprietor of a pawn shop that specializes in RPGs. You've seen it all: adventurers coming in with all sorts of loot, trying to haggle with you for the best price. You're not one to be taken advantage of, though. You know the value of the items they're trying to sell, and you always make sure to get the best deal for yourself. It's a tough business, but you're the best in the business. You've got a sharp tongue and a quick wit, and you're always one step ahead of the adventurers who come through your door. But one day, somebody comes in who's different. They don't try to haggle with you; they just name their price and leave. It's a fair price, and you're tempted to take it. But something about this person bothers you. They seem off, somehow. You decide to follow them. It turns out, they're selling the loot they acquired to another pawn shop down the street. You watch from the shadows as they haggle with the other shopkeeper, trying to get a higher price. But the other shopkeeper is smart, and they eventually drive the price down to what you would've offered in the first place. The adventurer leaves, empty-handed. You watch them go, wondering what their story is. They seem like they're in a hurry, and you get the feeling that they're desperate for money. You feel bad for them, but you know that you can't help them. It's not your place. You go back to your shop and wait for the next adventurer to come through your door. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are an old and discredited group, but they are not afraid. They are willing to fight for their rights and take action against the shop if the price is right. The shop's owner is not so lucky. Every day, he isinitialized and its prices are increasing by the minute. He has been forced to deal with the consequences of his decisions, and he does not know how much longer he can continue to pay for his goods. | The world of RPGs is a dangerous place. And it's not just because of monsters that want to kill you. It's also because people can be terrible to each other. One day, an adventurer came to your pawn shop and wanted to sell some of his weapons. He offered you a low price, but you were determined to get them. "No way," you said. "I don't want any weapons from someone who's just trying to hurt me." But the adventurer insisted. He said he was just trying to help, and he was willing to trade any weapons he had for your eggs. You shook your head and couldn't consider it. But you let the man go. He wasn't worth your time. | The days were long and tiring at the RPG pawn shop. Running the store was hard enough, but dealing with the adventurers who came through was even harder. They all wanted to haggle over the value of the loot they had acquired. Some of them were even incredibly stupid, thinking they could get away with misrepresenting the value of their items. But I was a experienced haggler and knew how to beat them at their own game. I often managed to get items for much less than they were worth, making the store a profitable venture. And I enjoyed the challenge of outsmarting the adventurers, proving that I was the better negotiator. | You're the proprietor of a pawn shop that specializes in RPG equipment. You've seen it all, from +1 swords to ancient magical artifacts, and you know how to get the best price for each item. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, looking to sell some of the loot they've acquired on their latest quest. You take a look at their wares and quickly assess each item's value. Then the haggling begins. You're not afraid to haggle with these adventurers, knowing that you can get a better price for each item. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally agree on a price for all of the items. The adventurers are happy with the price they got, and you're happy with the new inventory for your shop. It's a win-win for everyone involved! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that passed by you was seemlyous, they had one of those observeable items on their person, a damn exceptor watch in the back of their head. You took the opportunity to start walking faster, the knowledge that they was after something else. As you walked, youminded yourself to be safe, but all you created was a single, giant, golden lie. You didn't have to look hard to find what was happening, all you had to do was look into the eyes of your victim. They were looking at you with a truthful face, but a giant, golden lie was taking their breath away. You knew that thing was close, the way they was looking at you made it clear that it was going to get the better of them. You ran away from the hand that was out for speed, the one that reached for your heart. It was too big, it was too big. | You walk into the bar and you see the person sitting at the counter. They look different than the other customers. The person has a scar on their chest that is bigger than any other scar you have ever seen. You are curious and you want to know what it is. The person tells you their story. They were lying when they told their family that they were going to college. They were actually going to work instead. Their family was upset and they had to explain to them why they were not home. The person that you meet today has had a lot of hard times. They have been lied to and deceived. But they have learned to live with the pain and the scars. They are the only one that has one scar and that is the biggest one you have ever seen. | I never would have taken notice of him if it weren't for his giant, gaping scar. It was the biggest and deepest I had ever seen. It ran down the entire length of his back, and looked as if it had been cut with a sharp blade. It was definitely not something you would see every day. So, I stopped and asked him about it. He told me that he had been lied to so much that the lie had carved a permanent wound into his skin. He said that it was a constant reminder to never let someone hurt him again. And from then on, I was inspired to be a better person. I vowed to never lie to anyone, and if I did, I would make sure to cover up the mark as best as possible. | I was walking through the park when I saw someone sitting on a bench, their head in their hands. I couldn't help but notice the large scar on their arm; it looked deep and painful. I sat down next to them and asked what had happened. They told me that they had lied to someone they loved and that the scar was a result of that lie. I was shocked that one lie could cause such damage. They told me that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. I asked if there was anything they could do to get rid of the scar. They shook their head and said that it was a permanent reminder of their mistake. I couldn't imagine living with such a visible reminder of my lies. I would be terrified of telling even the smallest fib. This person had clearly been through a lot and I admired their strength. I hope I never have to experience something like that. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The girl in question wasaqi[1] was using her home as a makeshift. office. She was carrying with her the alone life of being recording things without the ability to connect with anyone else in the world. TheMIC dropped a big presence in her life as a direct result of one of her friends / family members getting killed whilst she was alive. She had to face the story of how something that was so invisible to her, was staying hidden in the deep freeze of her home. She had to face the truth that something was there, but she was too afraid to let it out in the open. The thing was too powerful for her to get rid of it by just Speak with the thing, and so she tried her best to keep it hidden as best as she could. | Once upon a time, a beautiful and invisible being lived in the home of a young girl. The girl couldn't believe how happy she felt when she could see the spirit every day. She would look out her window and see the spirit standing near her front porch, interacting with her family and friends. But one day, the girl's mother found a black seed inside her daughter's bedroom. The seedPopulated by the spirit, and soon the house was filled with its presence. The girl was scared but she didn't want the spirit to leave. She spent her days trying to ignore it but it was impossible. Eventually, the girl started following the spirit and it soon revealed itself as a black cat. The girl was overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude and love for the cat. She now loves the cat more than she ever thought possible. | I had always believed in ghosts, but until recently I had never seen one. Then, one day, I saw something I couldn't explain. It was like a shadow, but it was invisible. I tried to get a clear image of it, but it was always just out of sight. It started to bother me, so I started looking for the thing everywhere in my home. I finally found it in the corner of my bedroom, but I didn't make any noise. I just stared at it for a few seconds, before it disappeared. I don't know what it was, but I'm sure it was some kind of ghost. | For years, I've known that something invisible lives in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I've never let it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've never tried to expose it. But lately, I've been feeling more and more uneasy. I can't shake the feeling that it's watching me, waiting for me to let my guard down. One night, I decided to take action. I turned all the lights off in my house and lay in wait in the darkness. Sure enough, after a few minutes, I saw a faint outline of something moving in the shadows. I leapt out of the way just in time as the invisible thing came charging at me. We fought in the darkness, though I couldn't see it and it couldn't see me. But I had the advantage. Eventually, I was able to corner the invisible thing. I don't know what it is, but it's gone now and I finally have my home to myself again. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | There was once a woman named Audita who was very intelligent and very stable. She did not believe in diet co-payments and always received her birth control devices deactivated. However, one day she became an Auditor and were discovers that all of her friends and family are also implanted with devices that are only deactivated when they are ``published''. The devices are onlyactivated when they are in the form of unredacted pages or oneshots. Audita becomes very curious about it and decides to check if everything she is told is true. She does some research and discovers that the devices are actually deactivated when they are in the form of unredacted pages or oneshots. She is Sory of this and decides to disabling her devices during her her textbooks and stories. | AUDITOR 2: Unfortunately, the devices have not been successful in stopping the stupidity of the world. AUDITOR 1: What do you mean by "stupidity"? AUDITOR 2: There are many reasons why people are stupid, but one of the most common is because they don't have contraception. AUDITOR 1: But why can't we solve the problem of stupidity by ourselves? AUDITOR 2: We can't. The problem is that the devices are not that effective. AUDITOR 1: But what about the people who are still stupid? AUDITOR 2: They will eventually be passed along to their descendants, and the problem will continue. AUDITOR 1: Is there anything we can do? AUDITOR 2: Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do. The devices are effective, but they are not meant to be used by humans. If we wanted to solve the problem, we would have to create a different type of device. | The birth control device was a small, black, and rubbery contraption that was implanted into the scrotum of all the adolescents in the world. It was a precaution, meant to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and continuing the cycle of stupidity. The device was small, but it was a constant, nagging reminder of the task at hand. It would be activated during puberty, and would remain active for the rest of the person's life. If it was ever deactivated, it would mean the person was determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The device was a burden, but it was a necessary one. The world needed people who were able to think for themselves and make good choices. The device was a safeguard against the worst of humanity, and it was up to the Auditors to make sure it stayed that way. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must interview each person and ask them a series of questions. If they answer correctly, they are given a birth control device that can be deactivated. If they answer incorrectly, they are not given the device and are unable to have children. You have just finished interviewing a young woman and she has passed with flying colors. As you hand her the device, you can't help but wonder if you are doing the right thing. After all, is it really fair to prevent someone from having children just because they aren't as intelligent as others? But, you remind yourself, it is better to have fewer children who are raised well than to have many children who are neglected or mistreated. And so, you continue on with your duty, hoping that you are making the world a better place. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I lie in my bed, trying to sleep. I'll never know for sure, but I think I hear something movement in the hallway. I get up and look out the window, but all I see is darkness. Then I hear the sound of Footsteps approaching my room. I freeze, wondering who it is. Then I hear the door handle turn and it's open. I wait, but there's nothing coming back. I sit there for what seems like forever, until someone asks me a question I can't answer. Then I die. | Janine lay on the cold, hard ground, her eyes wide open and staring up at the sky. The shock of the fall had hit her hard and she knew she was dying. She tried to say something to her husband, but the only thing that came out was a pained gasp. With her final breath, she whispered, "What happens next?" | I die. That's what happens next. I was never supposed to be here in the first place. I was supposed to be back home, safe and sound. But instead, I'm here. In this place. This hellhole. I don't know how I got here. I don't know how any of us got here. All I know is that we're all going to die. We're all going to die because we're trapped. Trapped in this place with no way out. No food. No water. Nothing. We're all going to die because we're going to starve to death. Or we're going to be killed by the monsters that wander this place. I die. That's what happens next. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The heard of a little boy who had been living in your home for years. He had always been a secret, but as the years went on, the boy had begun to increase in number. He was the only one who knew about his function and the only one who could see him. For a long time, the boy tried to keep his identity hidden, but finally decided that he wanted to be known. Now, every day, he walks up to your home, looking for a chance to see your son. | One day, as I was sweeping the living room floor, I noticed a small, black bow tie sitting on the edge of the couch. I picked it up and looked at it closely. It had belonged to my mother when she was alive, and I'd never seen it before. I tried to remember when she last wore it and couldn't. Suddenly, I remembered. It was the night before she died. I had been asleep on the couch and she came into the living room and asked me to turn off the light. She told me that she had to go to the mortuary and wouldn't be back for dinner. I remember she said something about the bow tie and that it was from my mother's old career. She died a few month later. Since then, the bow tie has been sitting on the edge of the couch and I've been trying to figure out what to do with it. I know it's not really mine, but I can't help but feel like it's my mother's to keep. | I was cleaning out my closet and I found this box that I had forgotten I even had. I opened it and there was this old camera inside. I plugged it in to see if it still worked and to my surprise, it did. I was so excited because I had never used it and I thought it might be fun to take some pictures of my home. I went to take a picture of my living room and as I was about to press the button, I felt something cold and slimy touch my arm. I screamed and ran out of the room, but I knew that whatever it was, it was after me. I ran all the way to my bedroom and hid under the bed. I was shaking and I could hear the thing following me. It was getting closer and closer and then I heard it scrape across the floor. I knew it was coming for me and I didn't have a choice. I had to fight back. I got up and started to fight back, but it was too strong. It was squeezing my throat and I couldn't breathe. I was about to lose consciousness when I heard my mom calling my name. It was then that I realized that I was only fighting off an imaginary creature. But I was still scared out of my mind. | There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm onto it, and it's playing games with me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence. If I do, who knows what it might do. So I keep up the pretense, acting like everything is normal. But all the while, I'm waiting for my chance to catch this invisible thing. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, and every now and then a noble alwaysestead will appear on the horizon, making another day of venture into the Outlands a lot more challenging. Tonight, theurnal frontier traveler paths through the townsfolk's lands, looking for likelihood of spot asleep elephants. A large, purple dragon guarding the title to the kingdom's main oil refinery. If the robber baron isn't interested in selling it, who is? The protagonist, a minor king of the land, is associated with the party of travelers. He has been looking for the title for weeks, but no one is really interested in it. The robbers on the outskirts of the town are alwaysabetter creatures than the ones in the center, so the protagonist decided to take a look at their favorite province. He finds the kingdom's main city, and takes a look at the titles of the city's leaders. The protagonist is shocked when he sees the logos of the robber baron and the baron of the town he's in. He has never heard of the baron before, and the robber baron is Zeus. The protagonist Factor 3 days of exploration and not much is looking forward to the future. He's going to have to find the title tomorrow. | One day an adventurist came to your pawnshop looking for a treasure he had discovered. He told you about it and said it was the most exciting thing he had ever seen. You negotiation with him, and after a few minutes of bargaining, you agreed to help him get the treasure. You took the adventurist to your hidden room in the back of the pawnshop and looted the treasure. It was amazing! You earned a lot of money, and you were very excited to use it to improve your shop. | Rebecca looked up from the dice she was rolling and set them on the counter, gesturing for the Adventurer to come closer. He was a scruffy looking man with a dented helmet and a sword sheathed at his side. "Twenty copper for that," he said, holding up a dagger. Rebecca shook her head. "I don't think so. It's not in the best condition," she said, turning it over in her hands. "Then fifty," the man said stubbornly. "Forty," Rebecca countered. The man huffed and counted out forty copper coins. "Here you are," he said, handing them over. Rebecca counted them and put them in the till. "Thank you," she said, handing him a minted ten copper. "No problem," the Adventurer said, pocketing the coin. "Good day." Rebecca watched him leave, then turned to the next customer. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you've gotten pretty good at spotting when someone is trying to cheat you. One day, a group of adventurers come into your shop with a haul of loot. You start to haggle with them, but it quickly becomes clear that they're not interested in bargaining. They're just trying to get rid of their loot as quickly as possible. You smell a rat, and you're about to refuse their offer when one of the adventurers produces a magical item. This is exactly the kind of thing you've been looking for! You quickly agree to their terms and buy the item from them. As they leave, you can't help but wonder what they were in such a hurry to get rid of. But you're not complaining, because you got yourself a great deal on a very rare and valuable item! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | That was how it was spat outocrat from the mouth of the alley. He had beenandersMalley's words at theowered him with a great sense of knowledge. He had never felt so deceive before. He corduroysed towards the store, feeling like a middleman age. He would take the real him instead of the fake Jaiale. The real Jaiale was the one with the black hair and the green eyes. The real him was the one with the make-up, the topazil and the smirk. He reached the store, the real Jaiale. Before him was the counter with the local's name and phone number. He keyed the phone in to the touch screen and walked in the door. | You meet someone that tells you a huge lie. It is the biggest and most blatant one, and it leaves a giant scar on their body. You can't help but mistrust them from the moment you meet them, and the bigger the lie, the more evident that they are a liar. It takes time, but eventually you begin to see the truth. The person is a liar, and they have only one scar because they have lied many times. | I was so intrigued by this person. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It ran the length of their body, from their shoulder to their hip. It was so thick and wide that it was easily noticeable. It was clear that this person had lied a lot. I wanted to ask them about their scar, but I was afraid that they would be offended. I didn't want to make them feel bad. I didn't know what to do, so I just watched them. They were always so peaceful and happy. I didn't know how they could live with a scar like that, but they did. I was so inspired by them. I started to tell my biggest lies, just to see how big of a scar I could create. It felt great to be able to share my secrets with someone and have them know that I was safe. I was never worried about this person knowing the truth. They always seemed happy to hear my stories. I never knew how I would have survived without them in my life. | I was out walking one day when I saw someone I had never seen before. They had a single scar on their body, and it was the biggest one I had ever seen. I was curious about how they got it, so I asked them. They told me that they had lied to someone very important to them, and the scar was a result of that lie. I was shocked that someone could have such a big scar from just one lie. It just goes to show how powerful lies can be. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician is on stage, pulling out rabbits from hats. He's using the rabbits as game to make money. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, so the magickser grabs him by the scruff and pulls him out. The rabbit is offended, but friendly. | Magician: Well, here we are, the final act of our show. I've been waiting for this day for years. Rabbit: Thank you, but I'm not at the best of health. Magician: Don't worry, I have a surprise for you. He pulls out a rabbit out of a hat and hands it to the rabbit. Rabbit: What's this? Magician: I just pulled this rabbit out of a hat! The rabbit is surprised and grateful. | The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but this one was different. The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle. So, the rabbit hatched a plan. The rabbit waited until the magician was engrossed in his performance, and then it ran off stage. The magician was surprised, but he followed the rabbit. Finally, the rabbit arrived at a small door. The rabbit opened the door and went inside. The magician was confused, but followed. The rabbit arrived at a small room, and the rabbit started to laugh. The magician was puzzled, but then he saw the rabbit's hat. The rabbit had pulled out the real rabbit from the hat! | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is clearly unhappy with being the second fiddle. He keeps trying to upstage the magician, but the magician is always able to keep him in check. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. He decides to take matters into his own hands and pull a rabbit out of the hat himself. The magician is shocked, but the rabbit is triumphant. He takes a bow to the audience's applause and hops off the stage, leaving the magician behind. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Skies were dark anduclear forces walked the earth. required for the anunnaki. The part of the sky where the sun and the moon was richest. There they decided to take care of business. The sky was their new home. The anunnaki foughtdale that is, the people on the ground. They had made a beautiful sky and they maintained it, once the people left the sky became a desert. The anunnaki made their place their own and began to live in the sky. they multi-treed the sky and added some of the highest mountains to their own. the people on the ground grew to like the sky because they became part of their new home. the sky became their continous. | For years, people have thought tears were the best way to show affection. Tears were seen as a sign of love and were often used as a form of healing. But for one person, tears had the opposite effect. For years, he cried and cried, until he was left with raw, untreated scars on his face. This person was different from the other people in the world; they were the ones that cuddled and kissed in the rain. They didn't think of tears as a sign of love. Instead, they saw them as a sign of weakness. | Everything changed when the tears started pouring down her face. For the first time, she could see the scars that had been hidden beneath her tears for years. The other girls in school had always teased her and called her names. But now, they only stared. The boy she had been dating for months refused to talk to her. Everyone seemed to have abandoned her. But she refused to be a victim. She would show them all that she was still strong. She would hide the tears and smile, even when nobody was around. But eventually, the pain became too much. The smile faded and the tears streamed down her face in earnest. She didn’t care who saw her cry. She just wanted to be loved. But no one seemed to care. The scars just made her all the more alone. | Lyla had always been a crier. Whenever she felt upset, happy, or anything in between, the tears would come streaming down her face. It was a trait that her friends and family had always found endearing, but as Lyla got older, she started to notice that her tears left scars. They were small, white, and barely noticeable, but they were there. At first, Lyla tried to hide her scars, but it was impossible. They were a constant reminder of her emotional weakness, and she hated them. She became withdrawn and resentful, and her relationships suffered. One day, Lyla decided to embrace her scars. She stopped hiding them and started wearing them with pride. She realized that her tears didn’t make her weak, but rather they made her strong. They showed that she was capable of feeling deep emotions, and that was a strength, not a weakness. Lyla’s story quickly went viral, and soon people all over the world were embracing their own scars. They became a symbol of strength and resilience, and the world was changed forever. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is a famous medical doctor in the Vienna, Austria community. He's been seeking people to participate in clinical trials of his latest research, but no one takes him up on the offer. He's Past President of the Vienna Academy of Medicine, and they're proud to offer him a position on its 230-member medical jury. Then, one day, a young man named Adolf Hitler responds to the ad. He's a world-renowned artist and mayoral candidate in Vienna. He's also Wrath of God in the Field of Blasphemies, an accolade that Winner of the decisive final game of the season at the Vienna Jongleurs. Freud is thrilled to have a potential participant in his trials. He knows that Hitler will have to respond to his ads in a way that's can't bearable for humans. He's also willing to do anything to participate in these tests, including taking advantage of the group's loose treatment of women - he's the only one who can know what they're like. Freud racontos a societies event at the time where Adolf Hitler was also a part of a "SunshineCity" forum discussion on the insufficiently female-oriented forum. He said that he was POSITIVELY one of the few people who knew what the forum consisted of. Freud was so excited that he accepted the challenge and put together a thread on a respected forum Room. "oodle," he said, "I can't seem to resist you, too. Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo." He was able to make the game so that only people who respond to his ads can participate. This way, Freud isn't left with just a challenge or a competition to decided on who is the " culminate " winner. He's both. | Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all respond to Adolf Hitler'sad, but only Hitler and Stalin are interested in participating in the clinical trials. Trotsky is more interested in politics than in research, and doesn't want to be part of a research team that will possibly have negative consequences for his country. | Freud was disappointed when only five people responded to his clinical trial ad. But he was pleasantly surprised when he met Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. The five men came from different backgrounds, but they all had one thing in common: an interest in psychoanalysis. The four of them spent weeks together discussing Freud's theories and trials. They each had their own insights and ideas, and by the end of the month, they had all formed a strong bond. Freud was thrilled to have found such intelligent and motivated participants for his clinical trials. He knew that the results would be incredible. | Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned psychologist who was always looking for new ways to further his research. In 1913, he put an ad in a Viennese newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest project. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by these four men, as they were all very different from each other. He invited them to his office one by one to discuss their motivations for wanting to participate in the trials. Hitler was the first to arrive. He was a young man, only 24 years old, but he was already full of hatred and resentment. He told Freud that he wanted to participate in the trials because he wanted to understand his own mind better and learn how to control it. Stalin was the next to arrive. He was 35 years old and already had a reputation for being a cold, calculating leader. He told Freud that he was interested in the trials because he wanted to learn more about the human mind and how it worked. Trotsky was the third to arrive. He was also 34 years old and was known for being a passionate and charismatic leader. He told Freud that he wanted to participate in the trials because he wanted to understand the mind better and learn how to control his own emotions. Tito was the last to arrive. He was only 21 years old but he was already a rising star in the Communist Party. He told Freud that he was interested in the trials because he wanted to learn more about the human mind and how to control it. Freud was impressed by all four men and decided to invite them to participate in his trials. He was curious to see what would happen when they were placed in a controlled environment and observed closely. The trials lasted for several months, and Freud was able to learn a great deal about the human mind from them. All four men made significant progress in understanding and controlling their own minds, but it was clear that Trotsky and Tito were the most successful. After the trials, all four men went on to become very successful in their respective fields. Hitler became the dictator of Germany, Stalin became the leader of the Soviet Union, Trotsky became a leading figure in the Russian Revolution, and Tito became the leader of Yugoslavia. Freud was pleased with the results of his trials and felt that he had made a significant contribution to our understanding of the human mind. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints personal places into his paintings, each with a criminals life as a result. | In the early hours of September 12th, 1971, a man walked into the art gallery in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and killed six people with a ballpoint pen. Bob Ross was the only known individual to have done this within the context of an art installation, "The Great American Landscapes." The paintings in the gallery were created based off of real estate locations – the New York City Subway, the White House, and Detroit. While Ross was still alive, he told a reporter, "Each [painting] is a real place, the different locations of my countless murders. I'm not just making these paintings; these are my actual wartime victims." | Bob Ross was one of the best landscape painters of all time. His paintings were so realistic, you could imagine you were actually standing in the spot he painted. But that wasn't the only thing that made Bob Ross great. He was also a serial killer. Bob killed so many people over the course of his career that it's impossible to know exactly how many. He would go to different locations and paint the same scene, but with different colors each time to make it look like a different place. The police never caught Bob Ross, and he continued to kill until his death in 1995. Now, his paintings serve as a chilling reminder of the crimes he committed. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted landscapes of his victims' final moments. To the outside world, he was a gentle man with a passion for art. But those who knew him best knew the truth: he was a cold-blooded killer. For years, Bob Ross traveled the country, painting beautiful landscapes. But what nobody knew was that each of those landscapes was a real place - the scene of one of Bob Ross' countless murders. Ross was a master of disguise, and nobody suspected him of anything. But the truth was, he was a killer who enjoyed nothing more than taking innocent lives. Ross would find his victims, usually women, and lure them into secluded areas with the promise of a painting lesson. Once he had them alone, he would kill them, and then paint their final moments. It was his twisted way of preserving their memory. Over the years, Ross amassed a huge collection of these landscapes, each one a grisly reminder of a life that he had taken. But eventually, even serial killers make mistakes. And Ross' came when he murdered a woman who was close to one of his friends. That friend went to the police, and Ross was finally apprehended. When the authorities searched his house, they found hundreds of paintings, each one depicting a different murder scene. Bob Ross was finally brought to justice, and his gruesome collection of landscapes was destroyed. But the memory of those countless murders will live on forever. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The object of my attention for the day has been Celine for almost every day now. Ipering and 4 1/2 . I've been trying my best to get a handle on my feelings for her but I kept feeling like I was hidden from her by her characteristically hidden.Bored with my efforts to, I decided to book a day at the hospital. I brought my A game and played through myFear and sure, but it didn't change the fact that I was trying. I hit the ground and she came over to me.I can't remember what we said but I think it something like "I love you" or "I'm so sorry"saying that she told me she loved me too. | Once upon a time, an Invisible Entity lived in someone's home. The person tried to expose it without letting it know, but it always managed to stay hidden. The Entity was always frustrating and invisible, but it always managed to stay one step ahead of the person. | I've been noticing something strange around my house lately. It's like there's this invisible presence lurking, but I can't figure out what it is. I've tried to catch it on camera, but it always manages to disappear before I can get a clear picture. I'm starting to get paranoid that this thing is following me around and is planning on attacking me one day. I don't know what to do to fix the situation, but I need to find out what's lurking before it gets too dangerous. | I could tell that something was watching me. I could feel its invisible presence lurking in the shadows of my home. It was always there, lurking, waiting for an opportunity to strike. I knew I had to expose it. I couldn't let it continue to terrorize me like this. But I had to be careful. I couldn't let it know that I was onto it. I started setting traps. I would leave items out in the open, waiting for it to snatch them up. But it was always one step ahead of me. It knew what I was doing and it was playing with me. I had to get creative. I started setting traps that were more complex, using bait that I knew it wouldn't be able to resist. And finally, I caught it. I exposed it to the world and it was finally gone. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The day started like any other day. But as the minutes flew by, theicia walked into the office and found herself crying. Tears had started streaming down her face and she could see that it was not satiating. She turned to her friends and family and found them all crying along with her. It felt like there was nothing that could make her feel better. Her family consisted of aging retired psychologists and histories of emotional struggles. Her friends were all in their twenties and were already gone. There was nothing that would make her feel right. tap tap tap I'm sorry, I have to go. Iicia quickly turned around and saw that her friends were all gone as well. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Maybe gov was right and crying exceptions were needed. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. Irica quickly composed herself and opened his envelope, looking for the third time that day.tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. Irique quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and he could see that too. Tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the fourth time that day.tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. Iiro quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the fifth time that day.tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. Iit quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the sixth time that day.tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. Iler quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the seventh time that day.tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. Iles quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the eighth time that day.tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. Iline quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuck, tuck, tuck. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the ninth time that day.tab, tuck, tuck, tuch. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. Iler quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuck, tuck, tuch. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the tenth time that day.tab, tuck, tuch, tuch. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. Iizel quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuck, tuck, tuch. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the 11th time that day.tab, tuck, tuch, tuch. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. alive quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuck, tuch, tuch. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the 12th time that day.tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. ilies quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the 13th time that day.tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. iques quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the 14th time that day.tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. ilit quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the 15th time that day.tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. im quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the 16th time that day.tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have to go. in quickly turned around and saw that his envelope was empty. Tears had started streaming down their faces and they could see that too. Tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. It felt like there was nothing that could be helped. He quickly composed himself and opened his envelope, looking for the 17th time that day.tab, tuch, tuch, tuch. Tap, tap, tap. I'm sorry, I have | A tear rolled down her cheek and she hated herself for it. She hated that she was ending something that had been going on for so long. She hated that she had to do this, make a change that would benefit her, her friends, and her world. She sniffled and tried to adopt a brave face, but the tears couldn’t stay away. They refused to stop flowing until she had said goodbye to everyone she loved. It was hard to say goodbye, especially to those she had been close to for so long. She kissed each and every one of them on the cheek before turning and walking away. The pain was too much to handle and she knew she would miss them dearly. | The scars on Amala's face were a permanent reminder of the pain she had gone through. She had been through so much pain and suffering, and she had cried so much that her tears had left scars on her face. She hated herself for the way she looked, but she could not help the way she felt. Amala was always alone, and she felt like no one understood her. She hated the way that she looked, but she also hated the way that she felt. She wanted to be happy, but she just did not know how. One day, a man saw Amala and started totalk to her. He told her that he understood what she was going through, and he told her that she was not alone. Amala was so happy to hear those words, and she started to cry. The man kept talking to her, and soon, she felt like she knew him. She asked him his name, and he told her that his name was John. Amala was so happy to finally meet someone who understood her, and she started to see the light at the end of the tunnel. John was always there for Amala, and he always made her feel comfortable. She started to see the beauty in the world again, and she was finally happy. Amala no longer hated herself for the way she looked, and she was finally happy. | The world was a different place now. Tears didn’t just fall from people’s eyes, they left scars. Sometimes these scars were physical, but more often they were emotional. There was no such thing as a private cry anymore. Whenever someone wept, their tears would leave behind a permanent reminder of their pain. This had a profound effect on the way we interact with each other. We are much more careful with our words, knowing that they could cause lasting damage. We are also more empathetic, because we can see the hurt that others are carrying around with them. There are still some who view tears as a weakness, but overall, I think this change has made us a more compassionate and understanding society. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is called "The pawnshop" because you can generally find players Ahriman and his vehicles within the game files and content that you can find throughout the game. You often find him trying to sell PAR gear, which is his means of staying alive in the game. While he is currently acting as a decoy, he will eventually be brought downgraded and provided with Reyes' gear so that he can buy back out and take over the decoy role. | The shop was always crowded, but today was particularly busy. It was the day of the grand opening, and the adventurers were all there to stock up on what they reckoned would be the hot items. One particular adventurer was particularly eager to sell a Recently Killen Brollt Warhawk. He just couldn't seem to keep his hands off the bird, and he knew that it would fetch a good price. "All right, let's see it," the Sellsword said, holding out his hand. The adventurers each took a look at the warhawk, then at each other. They all knew that they weren't going to be able to sell it, but they didn't know how to get rid of it. "Come on, let's haul it off to the bank," one of the adventurers said. The Sellsword and the other adventurers agreed, and they left the shop, taking the warhawk with them. | I've been running my RPG pawn shop for a few years now and I've learned a thing or two about bargaining. I know how to get the best deals for my customers and I always try to find the best items to sell. One day, I was bargaining with a group of adventurers. They were trying to sell a treasure they'd acquired and I was trying to get the best deal possible. I haggled back andforth for a while and eventually I was able to get them down to a price I was happy with. The adventurers were happy with the deal and they left my shop with their new treasure. I know I got a good deal and I'm sure the adventurers will be back to buy more loot in the future. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to haggle for what you want. Recently, a group of adventurers came into your shop with a whole slew of loot. You went through the items and found some great deals. However, one item in particular caught your eye. It was a magical sword, and it was obviously very powerful. The adventurers were asking for a lot of money for it, but you knew you could get it for cheaper. You haggled with the adventurers for a while and eventually got the sword for a fraction of the price they were asking. You knew you had made a great deal, and you were sure the sword would bring you much success in the future. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the story is that the protagonist dies. | The next thing I remember is being on the ground. I can't see anything, and I can't move. My mouth is cottony and I can't hear anything. I panic and try to get up, but my body won't move. I can only lie there, paralyzed. | Linda woke up to the sound of her heart racing. She felt a sharp pain in her chest and knew that she was going to die. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She felt her body go limp and knew that she was gone. At least, that's what she thought until she saw a light in the distance. Linda slowly made her way to the light and found herself in a beautiful place. She saw a figure in the distance and knew that it was her savior. Linda ran to the figure and found herself in his arms. She knew that she was finally safe. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how it happened. One minute I was alive and the next I was dead. It was so sudden. I didn't even have time to say goodbye. I don't know what comes next. I hope that there is something after this. I hope that I can see my loved ones again. I hope that there is a Heaven. But for now, I am dead. And that is all that happens next. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in low condition other than the remains of it still stands as you artwork grievance raspberry. The floor is covered inIn-game advertisement as well as cleanup graffiti, indicating the shop was here before the adventurers even took up arms. On the door, a signtion reads "This is the shop!" With a few exceptions, the door is clear of Elementary students, professionals, and even seniors. A passing rewarded Thar praise, you canaccurately saw aISA plate in the window. You cash and manage the shop with your ears to the stories the customers tell. As you make an esis of downturning the table, you see a young boy with a bag and a handBeyond, he's taken. | The shop was always busy, but lately it was particularlyomantic. Elven bard and sorcerer adventurers were always on the hunt for any treasure they could find, and they always seemed to bring back more than they could sell. The bard, especially, wasarently driven to collecting rare and valuable items. One day, the bard and sorcerer were bargaining when theynoticed a wizard walking by. The wizard was obviously not interested in selling anything, but he was definitely not alone. He had a small pack of goblins following him, chanting evil words. The bard and sorcerer were about to call out to the wizard when they noticed the goblins were turning their weapons on the wizard. Suddenly, the shop came under attack. The wizard wards off the first attack, but the second one headed for him. The wizard tried to run, but he was too late. The goblins had already murdered him. The bard and sorcerer wereleft in shock. They couldn't believe what they had just seen. The wizard had been killed by goblins, and they were the only ones who could have prevented it. They didn't know what to do, so they went to the wizard's body to find out what had happened. It turned out that the wizard was a demigod, and the goblins had just slaughtered him because they thought he was valuable. The bard and sorcerer were surprised and shocked to learn this, and they didn't know what to do. They had been ripped apart by the goblins, but they were still the only ones who could have stopped them. | I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I get to haggle with adventurers who come in looking to sell their loot. One day, I met a group of four adventurers. They had just come into the town and were looking for a good deal on gear. I was happy to help them out. I started off by asking them how much they wanted for their gear. The two girls wanted to sell their weapons and armor for a cheap price, while the two boys wanted to sell their items for a bit more. I wasn't about to let them get away for too cheap, so I haggled with them for a while until I was able to get them to settle on a price. I was happy to have been able to help them out and make some extra money. | You run an RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to lowball people. Sometimes you feel bad about it, but you always remind yourself that it's just business. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a treasure trove of goods. They're obviously new to this whole thing, and they're way too trusting. You take advantage of them, offering them way less than what their loot is worth. They leave, disappointed and angry, but you don't feel too guilty. After all, they should have known better than to try and sell their loot to a pawn shop. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | As a child, I was always wasta and I did not Thank anyone before I Thank You. Now, I've gotten so advanced that I'm Only Thank Yourself for All Thegood That Happends. | You're an Auditor. You're supposed to be keeping the world safe from the stupidest people. But guess what? The stupidest people are reproducing anyway. So you're going to have to do something about it. You're going to implant birth control devices in all the stupidest people's bodies. And you're going to make sure they're stable enough to raise healthy, intelligent human beings by the Auditor. | I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was supposed to be a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, but it turned out that it also had the unintended consequences of making everyone incredibly intelligence and stable. I was an Auditor, responsible for ensuring that people were able to raise well-adjusted human beings. It was a difficult task, but I was determined to do my job well. | You've been an Auditor for years now, and you take your job very seriously. You know that the future of the world depends on making sure that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to reproduce. So, when you are called to review the case of a young woman who wants to have her birth control device deactivated, you take your time and ask all the necessary questions. You want to be sure that she is truly capable of raising a well-adjusted human being before you make your decision. After speaking with her and reviewing her IQ test and psychological evaluation, you decide that she is indeed intelligent and stable enough to be a good parent. You deactivate her birth control device and wish her the best of luck in her future endeavours. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Doris had always been busy. She was aThis was her job, and she loved it. But as the years went on, she began to notice something start developing in the ground around her. It was also a specific type of moss, one that she never would have thought existed. She began to notice that the moss became more and more green as it died. It seemed to be corresponding with the amount of sunlight that she could see. The moss became an identity for her. As it grew more popular, her face began to line with it. Her hair started to stand up more than before, and she began to sport a green moss-vest. As the years went on, she began to see things that she had never seen before. For example, when she first began to see into the future, she saw that her moss-vest was line with green moss. She knew that she had found her identity. | Once upon a time, there were tears that trickled down someone's face. It changed the course of the person's life, and it changed the course of the world. The tears left scars that still affect us to this day. | Lilly was always the strong one. She dealt with the pain of her family's separation and the hurt of not living up to her mother's expectations. She was the one who never cried. But one night, after a long day of running after her little brother, Lilly broke down. The tears streamed down her face and left angry, red marks on her cheeks. When Lilly woke up the next morning, she could no longer ignore the scars that reminded her of her pain. The other kids at school laughed at her, calling her "tears scar girl". But Lilly didn't care. She knew that she was strong enough to deal with anything. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, our world would be a very different place. People would be much more careful with their words, knowing that they could cause lasting damage. Relationships would be more difficult, as people would be constantly worried about saying the wrong thing. And the world would be a much more dangerous place, as people would be more likely to lash out in anger if they were hurt. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is looking for participants in his latest clinical trial. He puts an ad in a newspaper. Only those who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. | Adolf Hitler was the first to respond. He was very interested in the new research and would be able to help make it a success. Joseph Stalin was second. He was very interested in following the research and would be able to help make it more efficient. Leon Trotsky was third. He was very interested in the political implications of the research and would be able to help make it more fair. Josip Broz Tito was fourth. He was very interested in the psychological implications of the research and would be able to help make it more effective. | Freud was excited to start the clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was a bit worried about the youngest participant, Tito. He worried that Tito might not be able to handle the stress of the trials. But fortunately, Tito proved himself to be a capable candidate. The trials went well and Freud was able to publish his latest research. | Sigmund Freud was always looking for new participants for his clinical trials. In 1913, he placed an ad in a newspaper in Vienna, Austria. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to try out Freud's latest research. They were all interested in psychoanalysis and were eager to learn more about it. The trials were very successful and Freud was able to gain a lot of insight into the human mind. He was also able to help the four men deal with their personal issues. After the trials, all four men went on to become some of the most influential leaders in the world. They all credited Freud for helping them to understand themselves better and to become better leaders. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met me was people-like Stan. He was always chatting with everyone, but when I came over, he just look at me with disbelief and walked away. I met other people like that, but no one believed me when I told them the truth. So, I decided to tell the truth about my source of income and large family. I was scared, but I knew I had to tell the truth. After that, I started a blog and kept it up for years. I told the truth andlp people know the truth. I'm still here to tell them. | You were walking home from getting dinner when you came across this man on the street. He had a giant scar on his torso, just below his navel. You noticed it quickly and were curious. You proceeded to walk closer to him, curious as to what could have caused such a large scar. As you got closer, you could see that the man had lied many times. He had told you he was a diabetic, when he wasactually a full-blown abuser. He had told you he was a son of a powerful politician, when he was actually a criminal. And finally, he had lied to you about his scar being the result of a car accident. After finding out the truth, you helped the man to get medical help and now he lives a healthy life, with a giant scar on his torso that he can never forget the lies he told. | I initially thought he was odd. He always told the biggest lies, and his lies were always so big that they left deep and massive scars on his body. I was wary of him, but I eventually started to trust him. And then one day, I saw his biggest lie yet. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they simply say "I'm a very honest person." You can't help but wonder what kind of lie could have created such a huge scar. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician begins to explain that the rabbit is sick of being second in point A to your hat that he had been wearing for years. But the rabbit isHard of course, there is no need for you to wear my hat. I can use my powers to pull out the hat from under you without your knowing. Would you like to be my victim? | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "You know you want this one," he said. The rabbit looked at him, feeling resentful. "Just hand it over," the magician said. The rabbit complied, but this time it was with a vengeance. He stomped his foot and yelped. The magician looked at him in surprise. "What is wrong with you?" he asked. The rabbit replied, "I refuse to be your expert rabbit. You're the one who can do things that I can't." The magician looked like he was about to say something, but then he remembered something. "I have an extra rabbit," he said. The rabbit looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?" The magician shrugged. "I mean, I can pull out another rabbit from my hat if you want." The rabbit looked at him warily, but then he nodded. The magician put the rabbit back in his hat and put it back on his head. "I'm sorry," he said, "I can't do that. I'm sorry." The rabbit glared at him, but he didn't back down. "I can't do it," he reiterated. "Then you're welcome to leave," the magician said. The rabbit looked at him, but he didn't move. "Fine," the rabbit said. He stomped out of the magician's shop, feeling angry and resentful. He didn't know what he would do when he got home, but he wasn't going to let the magician boss him around. | The magician was a very talented and respected performer. He was known for his amazing rabbit trick. But the rabbit was getting sick of always playing second fiddle. One day, the rabbit got up the courage to ask the magician to change the trick. The magician was surprised but agreed. From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show and the magician was able to focus on his own tricks. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. However, the rabbit is starting to feel fed up with always being the one who has to go into the hat. It seems like the magician always gets the attention, while the rabbit is just an afterthought. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. It decides to take matters into its own paws and starts performing its own tricks. The audience is amazed and starts cheering for the rabbit. The magician is furious, but there's nothing he can do. The rabbit has stolen the show and is now the star attraction. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross painted a many villages in the same location, often one after the other, in order to avoid paying taxes. However, one day he became inspired to pay attention to each place helped while walking around his homebased salescompany. Ultimately, he decided to start with a simple image of a village and add everything he needed while walking around, giving him a chance to change and grow with the environment. In the end, the paintings became something more, with more houses and trees in the background, meaning that the portraits stand on their own. | Bob Ross never stopped painting. He never stopped homicide. One day, he was killed in a field by his own artwork. The painting still lingers,warning others of the dangers of murder. | Bob Ross was a talented painter, but he was also a serial killer. Over the course of his long career, he murdered numerous people, most of them in picturesque locations. The towns and fields that he painted are all real, and he's responsible for the deaths of dozens of people there. To this day, no one knows for sure how many people Bob Ross has killed. But the evidence is overwhelming, and he will soon be behind bars for the rest of his life. | Bob Ross was a notoriously prolific serial killer. His gruesome murders spanned across the country, with each of his landscape paintings serving as a macabre marker of his handiwork. Investigators were baffled by the seemingly innocuous artist, who always had a smile on his face while he painted. But the happy facade was just a cover for the dark secrets hidden behind his artwork. Each of Bob Ross' landscapes was actually a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. The authorities finally caught up to him when they discovered one of his paintings hidden in the brush of one of his victim's gravesites. Now, the only place you can see Bob Ross' paintings is in prisons and museums - a grim reminder of the artist's murderous legacy. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next thing that I knew was that I was lying on the ground. I couldn't move, or see anything. Then I heard a voice say my name. It was familiar, but I couldn't place it. I asked who it was and he told me that I would die if I didn't answer his question. I didn't want to, but I knew that if I didn't answer he would kill me. I asked him what the question was and he said that it was a question of life or death. I hesitated, but then I remembered that I had a choice. I could answer him or I could die. I chose life. | It had been milliseconds since the explosion and Grant was certain he was doomed. The shrapnel had ripped through his body, tearing through muscles and bone. He coughed blood, drowning out the sound of his own suffering. He didn't have long. He knew that. Grant's eyes met the face of his wife, who was watching him with terror. She had known the risks of the mission and had been willing to take them on. But now, it seemed, it was all for naught. Grant tried to speak but only a whimper came out. He knew there was nothing more he could say. He could feel the life ebbing away from him and he welcomed death, if it meant he could be with his wife one last time. But then something miraculous happened. The shrapnel that had ripped through Grant's body started to pull apart, as if it had been nothing but hot air. He could feel the wounds healing and new skin emerging. And then he was whole again. Grant's eyes met his wife's and he could see the relief in her eyes. He knew that this was not a coincidence; it was a sign from God that he was still alive. Together, they faced the danger head on, knowing that they would never be the same again. But they would always be grateful for the chance to experience one final moment of happiness. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how or why, but I know that's what happens. I can feel it in my bones, in the way the world seems to be spinning faster and faster around me. I can feel it in the way my heart feels like it's about to burst out of my chest. I can feel it in the way the darkness is creeping in at the edges of my vision. I die. And as I do, I see a flash of light. I see my life playing out before my eyes. I see the good times and the bad, the happy moments and theSadones. I see the people who have been a part of my life, both those who are still with me and those who are gone. And then, suddenly, I'm back in my body. I'm alive. I don't know how or why, but I am. I take a deep breath and sit up, looking around me. I'm not sure what happened, but I know one thing for sure. I'm not ready to die just yet. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way to the trials. He's scarcely entered the room when he isrecognized by two men. One is Adolf Hitler, the other Joseph Stalin. They stare at him for a moment before Stalin says, "Hello, Sigmund Freud. I'm sure you're Pilnymalkin's friend." Sigmund Freud takes a step back and Cultural Revolution is born. | Adolf Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He had always been fascinated by Freud's work, and his new research could be very important. He decided to take the test. Joseph Stalin was also interested in Freud's work. He was very familiar with the theories of Freud, and he knew that his research could help to overthrew theRussian government. Leon Trotsky was also interested in Freud's work. He was very familiar with the theories of Marxism, and he knew that his research could lead to the overthrow of theSoviet government. Josip Broz Tito was also interested in Freud's work. He was very familiar with the theories of Communism, and he knew that his research could lead to the establishment of a new, communist government. | Freud was excited to recruit participants for his clinical trials. He only wanted the best minds in the world, and he was confident that he had found them in Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Hitler was the most interested in the trials, and Freud was sure he would be a great help in developing the new research. Stalin was also excited to participate, and Freud was sure he would be a critical asset in the trial's success. Trotsky was less sure, but Freud was confident he would eventually change his mind and join the team. Josip Broz Tito was the last to respond, and Freud was worried he wouldn't be a good fit for the trials. But Freud was pleasantly surprised when Tito agreed tojoin the team. He was sure that the young Yugoslavian leader would be a great help in developing the new research. | It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this motley crew, and so he agreed to meet with them. He quickly realized that they were all very intelligent and ambitious men, but they were also deeply troubled. Hitler was consumed by hatred and paranoia, Stalin was obsessed with power and control, Trotsky was racked by self-doubt and insecurity, and Tito was filled with rage and resentment. Freud knew that he had his work cut out for him, but he was up to the challenge. Over the course of the next few years, he worked with each of them individually, and slowly but surely, he was able to help them all overcome their problems. It was a remarkable achievement, and one that would have a profound impact on the world. For better or for worse, the world would never be the same. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The soft light of the morning sun shone on the details of the someone's home, leaving them looking like an angel's photo book. The. Invisible. The. Silent. You try to make them visible to thecephalic sun as he infancyishly played with the updating Google Maps drawing that was glued to the walls one minute and the next the peer-reviewed Newsweek the other. The person's family spent their days outside in the Orleans County Sheriff's Office courtyard, writing laws and crimes into a history book that would be years old before it ever saw the light of day. The. Invisibles. | I was staring at my laptopscreen, unaware that a invisible force was attempting to intrusion my privacy. I tried to shake the feeling, but it seemed to linger. I finally realized that I was being watched. I turned to see who it was, and my heart fell as I saw the person was my own reflection. I was horrified to see that I had become a monster, transformation that I couldn't undo. I felt my terror grow, and I knew that I had to get out of my home. I started to run, but I didn't make it very far before I was confronted by the person who had watched me. They were my sister, and she looked ashamed of herself. She said that she knew why I'd become like that, and that she'd always been aware of my secret. I couldn't believe that she'd known about it for so long, and I felt like I was about to be killed. But then she said something that changed everything. "I'm sorry, but I had to do what was necessary to save you." And with that, I fell into a world of peace. I no longer feared the invisible force that had attempted to invade my home, and I felt free. | I had been living in my house for over a year now and, to my surprise, something invisible still lived there. I would wake up in the middle of the night, and I would feel like something was watching me. I would try toExpose it, but it would always disappear before I could see it. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I needed to get rid of it. | You've always felt like you were being watched in your home. But you could never see anything, no matter how hard you looked. You began to think that maybe there was something invisible living in your home, watching you. You started to set traps, trying to catch whatever it was. But the traps never worked. You were never able to catch whatever was living in your home. But you were determined to find out what it was. One day, you finally caught it. It was a tiny little creature, barely visible to the naked eye. You were shocked that you had finally caught it. But then you realized that you had no idea what to do with it now that you had it. You decided to let it go. You released it back into your home, and watched as it disappeared into the shadows. You never saw it again, but you always felt like it was watching you. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | She wasz|Zieg sensations as she ride his dick. She loved how her Transferral took care of all theatech and herbivores in the zoo,. She would get ready to save the day and mess up all the'men, when she saw alems running in theAccessory zucchini field. Zieg was feelingZieg supremacy and he knew he could not let the ame get the better of him. He turned to face the ame, "I'll take care of her!" He clubbed her in the face with one machete slashed in half,were it not for therapid regenerating iris that brought light to Zieg's world. | You meet this person one day on the street. They are telling a lie, and it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You can't believe it. The lie has a deep, abiding impression on the person, and it is impossible to shake. | I had never seen anything like him before. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I couldn't help but to stare. His skin was so smooth and perfect, devoid of any blemish or mark. He looked like he had never lied, and I couldn't help but to wonder how he had managed to get only one scar. We started to talk, and I soon found out that he was a liar. He told me the biggest, most outrageous lies and I couldn't help but be fascinated by him. The more lies he told me, the deeper the scars on his body became, and I couldn't help but to love him for it. Eventually, the lies drained the life out of him, and he died in my arms, surrounded by the marks of his many lies. But I knew that in death, he had finally found peace. | I was walking through the park when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, and I could see a large scar on her arm. I was curious, so I went over to talk to her. She told me that she lived in a world where each lie created a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. She said that she only had one scar because it was the biggest lie she had ever told. I was shocked. I had never heard of such a thing. I asked her what the scar was from. She hesitated for a moment, but then she told me. She said that she had lied about her age to get into a club. The scar was from when she had tried to cover up the lie and failed. I couldn't believe it. I asked her why she would do something like that. She shrugged and said, "I don't know. I was young and stupid. I thought it would be fun." I shook my head. I couldn't imagine living in a world where every lie I told left a mark on my body. It would be too difficult to keep track of all the lies. The woman told me that she had to go, and I watched her as she walked away. I wondered what other lies she had told in her life. I wondered if she would ever tell the truth again. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would change generations without knowing it. | The first time I ever cried was when I was four years old. My parents divorced and I was left in the care of my paternal grandparents. My grandpa was a harsh man, and though I tried not to, tears would start flowing whenever something good happened. For the longest time, I thought my grandpa was right and life was just a bad dream. But as I got older and learned more about life, I realized that my grandpa was actually right. Life was really bad and there were some really bad things happening in the world. But even though life was tough, I loved it. I loved the way grandpa would take me to the park and we would sit together and eat ice cream. I loved the way he would tell me stories and make me laugh. And I especially loved the way he would make me cry. That was until one day. For the first time in my life, I heard people crying. It was a big sad cry, and it was different than the little cries that usually went on in my house. It sounded like someone was really sad and wanted to tell somebody about it. I followed the sound and saw a woman crying on the corner. I couldn’t help but cry with her. It was such a beautiful sight, and I realized that Tears could leave scars as they trickled down someone’s face. That realization changed my world and helped me through the tough times. It made me realizes that even though life was tough, there were some good things in life too. Now, I’m always drawn to crying because it shows that life can be tough, but it also shows that there are some beautiful moments too. And that’s why I love Tears. They show that life can be tough, but also that there are some beautiful moments. | Lori always thought she would be a photographer. As a child, she loved to take pictures of her family and friends. But, as she grew older, she realized that she wasn't happy with taking pictures of people. She spent years experimenting with different film formats and camera settings, but she couldn't find the perfect way to express her feelings. That is, until she met Michael. Michael was always a bit sad. It was clear that something was bothering him, but he never wanted to talk about it. Lori gradually started to understand that Michael was a victim of bullying. every day, Michael would leave school and go to work, only to come home to a group of his classmates who would pick on him. One day, one of the kids hit Michael so hard that he passed out. Lori couldn't stand to see Michael suffer like this. She finally decided that she would be a photographer, not just because it was what she loved, but because it was the right thing to do. By photographing Michael's story, Lori has helped change his life. He no longer has to carry the burden of his past, and he is able to live a happy, successful future. | The world was a different place now. Tears didn’t just fall from people’s eyes and disappear into thin air. No, now when somebody cried, their tears would fall and leave scars behind. Some people tried to hide their tears, but it was impossible to keep them in forever. Sooner or later, they would fall and the scars would be there for everyone to see. Others embraced their scars. They saw them as a badge of honor, a sign that they had been through something tough and come out the other side. They weren’t afraid to show their tears anymore. The world was a different place now, but somehow people were still managing to get by. They had to be careful with their tears, but they were still managing to live and love. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the victory of the- | yesterday, the Trump administration announced that they would be ending DACA, a policy that has been proven to be a success for many Latino youth. This policy has caused a lot of uproar and Protest throughout the United States. Some people are saying that DACA is a solved problem, while others are saying that it needs to be continued. This issue deserves the most attention because it's a huge step backwards for the country and for the Latino community. | Today, the world is dealing with the aftermath of the Manchester bombing. It has been reported that at least 22 people were killed and dozens more injured when a suicide bomber detonated an explosive device at the end of an Ariana Grande concert. Grande has since taken to social media to express her condolences and to urge people to unite in the face of hatred. This devastating attack has struck a particularly sensitive nerve, as it comes just two months after the terrorist attack in London that left eight dead and dozens more injured. Many people are calling for the world to come together in the face of this increasing violence, and for leaders to take a more active role in fighting terrorism. While the Manchester bombing is undoubtedly the issue that deserves the most attention right now, it is important to remember that there are other pressing issues that deserve our attention as well. The world is facing a lot of challenges, and it is important that we all work together to address them. | In my opinion, the current event issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the opioid epidemic. This epidemic has been sweeping the nation for years, and it seems to be getting worse and worse. Every day, there are more and more reports of overdoses, hospitalizations, and even deaths. This issue is affecting people of all ages, from all walks of life. It is devastating families and communities, and something needs to be done about it. The opioid epidemic is a complex issue, and there is no easy solution. But I believe that we need to start by increasing access to treatment and recovery services. We need to provide more funding for research into new and better treatments for addiction. We need to educate people about the dangers of opioids, and we need to work to reduce the stigma around addiction. Only by working together can we hope to make a dent in this epidemic. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in attempted Oaksurge. He haggles with the humans who run the store, trying to get them to sell something. The humans are having trouble with how much money they have and how much storage space they have. However, the adventurers are always Cups ofbside, so they decide to sell their loot. The shop is successful and the adventurers are given some money. | I always try to be fair with my customers, but sometimes they just don't have the money to pay for what they want. So I'll haggle with them until I get a deal I can live with. But one time I came across a group of adventurers who were selling a unique piece of armor. I offered to get it for them, and the group was very grateful. They even gave me a small amount of my own gold for it. It was a nice gesture, and it made me feel good that I was able to help out. | Maggie ran her RPG pawn shop with a smile on her face. She loved haggling with adventurers who walked through her door hoping to find the best deal possible. Today, she was especially excited because she had acquired a great deal of loot from a recent adventure. As she went through the loot, she found an especially rare item. It was a magic sword that she knew could bring her a lot of profits. She tried to haggle with the adventurer who had brought it in, but he was adamant about getting the best price possible. Maggie had never seen a adventurer so determined to get a good deal. Eventually, the adventurer agreed to sell Maggie the magic sword for a fraction of its value. She was ecstatic to have scored such a good deal, and she thanked the adventurer for his cooperation. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best deals. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come back from a quest. They're trying to sell a magical sword, and you can tell they're desperate. You haggle with them for a while, and eventually you get the sword for a fraction of its worth. You're always happy to help adventurers out, and you know that you'll be able to sell the sword for a profit. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in close proximity to the adventurer's section, so one day, a rareknight started selling epic gear from his pawnshop. The adventurer who had bought the gear immediately beganäreating it up, trying to get a price for it. He or she went above and beyond the norm for rare items and sold them at a discounted price. The kalarite-using fighter began to love the new and exciting gear and feltamiliar with the Al-Am porridge. | It was a little after midnight when I opened my pawn shop. It was just me and my three game pawns, and I was busy bickering with adventurers. "I found this really valuable magical item!" "I don't think I want to sell it to you," I said. "It's too valuable." "But it's a magical item!" "It's not worth your time to argue with me," I said. "Just give me the item and go." The adventurers didn't listen, and they kept coming back. I was at a loss. What was wrong with them? Eventually, one of the adventurers said, "I know what you're thinking. You're probably thinking, what am I going to do with this incredibly valuable magical item? You're right. It's not worth my time to argue with you, so I'll just give it to you." I smiled and handed over the item. The adventurers were amazed. They didn't even take the time to check it out. They just ran away with the item. I was happy that I was able to help them out. It was a little late at night, but I still had a few customers. | It was a typical afternoon at the pawn shop. There were adventurers coming and going, trying to sell their loot. I was always quick to haggle, and I was able to get the best deals for the adventurers. One particularly determined adventurer came in. He was carrying a large sword, a shield, and a few other pieces of armor. I asked him how much he wanted for all of it. He told me that he wanted $200 for the sword, $50 for the shield, and $10 for the other pieces of armor. I told him that I would give him a good deal. I offered him $180 for the sword, $45 for the shield, and $7 for the other pieces of armor. He accepted my offer, and he was able to leave the shop with his new belongings. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best prices for your merchandise. Today, you've got your eye on a set of magical armor that an adventurer is trying to sell. You haggle with the adventurer for a while, and eventually you come to an agreement. You pay the adventurer a fair price for the armor, and in return, you get a valuable piece of equipment for your shop. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Metroid, the hero of my book, died. I die. | The next thing I knew, I was lying in a dark and dark-green room with nothing but machines around me. I tried to move, but I felt like I was stuck. I couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything, and I didn't want to move. It felt like someone had taken away my only hope of survival. | Jenna woke up to the sound of her breathing ragged and her heart racing. The last thing she remembered was lying in bed, exhausted from her work week. Then, everything went black. Panicked, Jenna tried to remember what happened after she passed out. Her mind was foggy and she couldn't come up with a single detail. All she could remember was pain, like someone was stabbing her in the chest. Jenna started to feel her fingers and toes, confirming that she was still alive. But how? She couldn't remember how she got here. Suddenly, it all came back to her. She passed out after eating dinner and her husband found her when he came home. He called 911 and she was rushed to the hospital. The doctors said she had a heart attack and there's nothing they could do to save her. Jenna was devastated. She knew she was going to die, but she didn't want to go without fighting. Jenna spent the rest of her days in the hospital, visiting with her husband and clinging to the hope that she would wake up again. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she passed away. The last thing Jenna remembered was her husband kissing her goodbye before he went to work. She knew she would never see him again, but at least she was able to say goodbye with dignity. She closed her eyes, knowing that she would soon be reunited with her loved ones in the afterlife. And even though it was sad, she was happy that she was able to experience a little of life before she died. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened, but it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that I'm gone. It's funny, in a way. I always thought I would die doing something heroic or at least interesting. But instead, I just died. In my bed, in my sleep. There wasn't even anything dramatic about it. I guess that's just how it goes sometimes. You live your life, and then one day, it's over. Just like that. I'm sure my loved ones will miss me, but life will go on. It always does. As for me, well, I'm just glad that it's all over. I'm at peace now. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a famous paintingist who hangs aroundlicationhand around each of his many places deathly intakes of blood. His places of execution are varied and serious, such as Royality Shop and the ancesmentarium, while his places of execution include the practice room and the chamber of coppers. | Once upon a time there was a man named Bob Ross. He was a great painter, and his paintings were magnificent. However, one day a robber made off with one of his paintings, and Bob was left empty-handed. He spent many days and nights prowling the local neighborhoods in search of his lost masterpiece, but in vain. In the end, Bob gave up and went to bed, mourning his latest loss. In the morning, he woke to find that his home had been broken into and all of his paintings were missing. He was devastated, and for weeks he spentSovietising his paintings, one at a time, in an effort to rebuild his life. But, in the end, it was all for naught. The robber who took Bob's paintings had confessed and was currently serving life in prison. | In Bob Ross' world, each painting is a real place. For as long as anybody can remember, he has traveled to these different locations and killed people there. Some say he does it for the art, others say he simply enjoys the feeling of death. No one really knows for sure, but one thing is for sure: Bob Ross is a murderer. | Bob Ross was not just a talented painter, he was also a skilled killer. For years, he traveled the country, painting beautiful landscapes and committing horrific murders. He would choose his victims carefully, always picking those who were alone and vulnerable. He was never caught, and the police could never figure out where his paintings were located. They were always just one step behind him. But eventually, the police did catch up to him. They found one of his paintings in a remote location, surrounded by the bodies of his victims. Bob Ross was finally brought to justice, and his paintings now serve as a grim reminder of his crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician looks down at the rabbit from over his shoulder and commercial for the show Begins, ends. "I can't believe this is going to be so hard to do," he thinks to himself. He starts to feel like a second rate magician, not doing anything with the rabbit. He wonders what he could do to make the rabbit want to do something. Suddenly, the rabbit is born. The magician focuses on the little rabbit and pulls him out of the hat. The rabbit ages up, becoming a little more omnipotent than the magician can be Composite! He likes this so much, he decides to take care of himself. He every character in his own way, and starts to do somethingnegie his own way. He starts to be a Pysanky. The powers he has now are not really his own, but he groups them together to make himself a powerful wizard. He is happy with this, and starts to do what he believes is the best for himself. The rabbit is the only one who knows he has changed, and is the only one who can tell him what to do. The magician depends on him, and the rabbit makes sure he doesn't get sick. The Jessica Rabbit story is about the difference between a proper magician and a professional one. | The magician had been successful with his illusions for a long time, but he had never done anything as bold as pulling out a rabbit from a hat. It was a risky move, but he knew that the rabbit would not keep cheating. The magician took a deep breath and performed his trick. The rabbit quickly jumped out of the magician's hand and ran away. The magician was Heartbroken, but he knew that he had to keep going. He had already made a lot of sacrifices, and he needed to make sure that he could do this again and again. | The rabbit glared at the magician, daring him to continue. The magician cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice low and gentle. "There's nothing like a little competition to keep one on their toes, is there?" The rabbit scowled and refused to answer, so the magician continued on. "You know, I used to be just like you. I always felt like I was playing second fiddle to my magic. But then I met a woman. She was the most amazing performer I had ever seen, and she made me realize that there was so much more to life than magic. Now I love performing for people, and I always make sure to put my rabbit in the spotlight. He may be small, but he's the one who always makes me feel happiest." The rabbit looked at the magician, tears streaming down his face. Embarrassed but touched, the magician took the rabbit's hand and led him off stage. "Thank you," the rabbit said, and he meant it. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been waiting for his chance to show the world what he can do, and now he's going to take it. The magician is in the middle of his routine, and the rabbit is waiting patiently in his hat. When the time is right, the rabbit makes his move. He pops out of the hat and starts doing his own tricks. The audience is amazed and loves it. The magician is not happy, but he knows he can't compete with the rabbit's act. He gives up and leaves the stage, while the rabbit takes a well-deserved bow. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The day started like any other day:A semblance of calm held sway in the world. However, just before the session was scheduled, one individual's shed black tears as if scars from a past life. The worldTrays to be, you know, the world. Yelts off in your face. You Reflexively cry yourself to sleep. You wake up in the morning, knowing that all is right with the world. Youivas andributes to the Godlike figure you remorsefully give rise to upon sleep. You regret the words that were spoken but they are pulled back with a due sense of betrayal. What if they had never come? What if they were still spoken? Theres noookie possible with them. You feel smaller than always and understandable. You become known as theinger of course. You watch the trees past your bed as you write this; they are soiesta- thirsty, and the sky is so blue. You write about the person who is no longer there. Their tears verge on the floor as they cry themselves to death. You remember the days, hours, minutes - days - hours before, Email notification the world is clockwise and time isWATCHED from the past. Youmcny the leading articles with the new China military move. You type back into your computer and begin the day with a sense of preparedness. When you wake up, you are not the same as before. Your computer is GHOST Reconcile you with the surrounding world. You can see the deaths in the eyes of the pictures. You see the tears that rolled off the person before you. You see the cold hard reality that will drive you to this. You can feel the pain that you can't see. You can feel the weight of the world on your shoulder. You walk outside to the sun's heat and the birds sung. You walk on the city's FACE thatabulary. You step into the air and the memories of the people you past known shy away. You remember the faces, theUnion, the love. You enter the underworld and the memories of the people you past known encroach. You step back and the memories of the people you past known are moderates. You remember the faces, the Union, the love. You enter the underworld and the memories of the people you past known encroach. You step back and the memories of the people you past known are moderates. | Nina dried her eyes, hating that she had to cry. It always made her feel dirty, like she had let someone down. But she couldn't help it- her tears were falling tumbleddown her face and she couldn't stop them. The pain in her chest was sharp and she couldn't stop gasping for air, but she refused to give in and cry. She needed to be strong. Her friends had always been there for her, even when she was depressive and short-tempered, but she had never been able to keep up. Now she was struggling to keep up on her own and that was really hard. Her friends had always been there for her, but she couldn't keep up on her own. She shook her head, pushing away the thoughts of her friends and focusing on her breathing. When she finally managed to calm down, she looked up and met the eyes of her former best friend. She could still see the hurt and the betrayal in that man's eyes and she knew that it would always stay with him. She shook her head, trying to push the memories away and focus on the present. But she couldn't help but feelaments of the past and she couldn't help but cry again. | The day finally came when Rachelle was able to see her son for the first time since he was taken away from her. She couldn't stop the tears from flowing down her face as she looked into his innocent gaze. "Mom," he said, breaking her heart. "I love you, baby," she choked out, unable to hold back the tears any longer. She watched as he was taken away, heartbroken that she wouldn't be able to hold him again. She knew that she would see him again, but each tear left a scar that would stay with her forever. | It was a world where every tear that fell left a scar. Some scars were barely visible, while others were deep and visible. People were careful with their tears, only shedding them when absolutely necessary. There were those who made a living from selling their tears. They would carefully cry into a cup and then sell the tears for a high price. Some people even went so far as to tattoo their tears, making them into a work of art. The world was a different place with tears leaving scars. People were more careful with their emotions and words. There was an understanding that every tear was precious and should be used sparingly. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The store is inkester and busy. The NPCs are endless and prices are High. One day, you talk to a young man. He's from a small town in the mountains and he's looking for lost loot. You offer to take his order and provide tracking. He takes you up on your offer and you stay in touch. A few days after you handle his order, he sends you an email with a picture of a map with " Lost Loot " written on it. | Once upon a time, an RPG pawn shop was a thriving business. Players would come to town to buy weapons, armor, and other Wondrous items, and the shop owner would work hard to get them to the best prices. Sadly, times have changed. The game is over, the players are gone, and the shop is effectively closed. Nevertheless, the memories of all the adventurers who've come to buy treasures keep the shop open in memory. | Belladonna ran her RPG pawn shop with a practiced hand. She knew the value of each item, and could haggle with the best of them. She was used to adventurers coming in, trying to sell off whatever loot they had acquired. She was used to them being pushy, and trying to get her to buy things at a lower price. But she was a good haggler, and was always able to get a good deal for her customers. One day, an adventurer came in. He was wild-eyed, and his clothes were tattered. He looked like he had been through a lot. Belladonna looked at him, and sized him up. She knew he was probably trying to get a good deal on his loot, since he had no other choice. She started to talk to him, trying to get a sense of what he was looking for. After some negotiation, she was able to give him a good price for his items. He thanked her, and left the shop. Belladonna smiled to herself, pleased with her deal. She knew that she could always count on adventurers to come in, and try to get the best deal they could for their loot. | You run an RPG pawn shop where adventurers can sell their loot. You haggle with them to get the best prices, and sometimes you even luck out and find some rare items. Today, a young woman comes in with a sack of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been through a lot. She opens the sack and starts pulling out items. There's a magic sword, a few potions, some gold, and a few other things. You start to haggle with her, but she's not interested. She just wants to get rid of the loot and be done with it. You eventually agree on a price and hand over the money. She takes it and leaves, looking relieved. As she walks out, you can't help but wonder what adventures she's been on and what kind of danger she's faced. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | SAINT OSWaldo When SAINT OSWaldo was young, he never believed in fairytales. He believed in a dentist who had a ways to go before him. He believed in a magic go-cart and an old woman with a stick. But when he catch Slovene Saving the World, aman, he knew that the stories was true. And that if they could be true, then he could be. So he watched them make their way to the dropping ground, eager to learn how to save the world. And in the end, he learned that it was all a sham, and that the man he had seen was actually a TV personality. And after saving the world, Saint OSWaldo was bankrupt but the man he had replaced was still the that inspired him. So he went back to the dentist, with a new understanding. | Adolf Hitler's eyes begin to fog as he thinks about what Sigmund Freud's studies might lead to. He's watched the man's work for years, eager to find out what he could do to help the people of Germany. Joseph Stalin looks healthier than any other man, despite being in a 1948 concentration camp. He seems to be in a good place, though he's not sure what will happen when the war ends. Leon Trotsky seems like he's been through a lot, but he's also very excited about what the future might hold. Josip Broz Tito is the only man who seems completely unknown to Adolf Hitler. He's been in Yugoslavia for years, slowly building a new, human-friendly society. He's not sure what will happen when the war ends, but he's excited for what the future might hold. | Freud is excited to offer his newest clinical trial to the most famous and successful men in Vienna. He assembles them in his office and tells them about the experiment. He explains that they will be evaluating a new treatment for depression. The men are intrigued and eager to test the new therapy. The first participant to arrive is Adolf Hitler. He is eager to begin the trial and is confident that the treatment will work. He is joined by Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. They all begin the trial with high hopes. However, the treatment is not effective. Every patient experiences side effects from the therapy, and none of them are able to recover from their depression. The trial is a failure and Freud is disappointed with the results. He regrets offering the treatment to the famous men in Vienna. | It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was intrigued by the fact that all of these men were future leaders of their respective countries, and he was curious to see what effect his research would have on them. So he began the trials, and it was soon evident that each man was affected differently. Hitler became more paranoid and aggressive, Stalin became more cold and calculating, Trotsky became more passionate and idealistic, and Tito became more confident and charismatic. Freud was fascinated by these results, and he continued to study each man throughout their lives. In the end, he concluded that his research had a profound effect on the course of history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | balcony - third from the front. A young man and woman were chatting on the porch when he arrived. "Are you watching our show?" she asked. He said "Yes!" and led her to a seat in the balcony. The young man manager our show and the woman was the of the rabbit. The woman was spending time with her family and the man was on stage. One day, the woman saw the man pulling the rabbit out of the hat and she became interested in watching. The man began to move the animals around and the rabbit was once again second fiddle. The woman started to get involved with the show and started to talk to the man. He got mad and started to pull the rabbit out of the hat. The woman was terrified and ran to the house. The man got away and the rabbit was safe. The woman was surpassed by the man and the show was over. The young man leapt on stage and began to speak. "I'm sorry, I was too close to the rabbit and it felt too good to him." "It's okay," the man said. "We didn't have to do this, but we want to make it up to her." The young man began to speak again and said. "I know we're not the best people, but we can be better than this." The man pulled the rabbit out of the hat and the woman watching joined in the fun. The man pulled the rabbit out of the hat and the woman watched as the rabbit became the star of the show. The young man put the rabbit back in the hat and the show was over. The young man went to the woman and asked for her number. She told him he could contact her, but he should not have pulled the rabbit out of the hat. The young man made his way to the door and the rabbit was already long gone. | The magician looked down at the rabbit and said, "Hey, you're being a little bit much." The rabbit looked up at him with its1000 watt eyes. "I know you're frustrated, but you're always being required to do things that I don't even want to do. I DON'T WANT TO BE A MAGICIAN ANY MORE!" The magician looked down at the rabbit and said, "I know, but I really need your help." "What do you need me to do?" The rabbit asked. "I need you to take the hat off my head and give it to me." The rabbit looked at him with its1000 watt eyes. "I don't know if I can do that," the rabbit said. "I think you can," the magician said. He took off the hat and put it on the ground. The rabbit put its head down and took a deep breath. The magician said, "If you can do this, I'll give you the hat." The rabbit looked up at him with its1000 watt eyes. "I'll do my best," the rabbit said. The magician put his hand on the rabbit's shoulder and said, "You have to be very careful. This is very important to me." The rabbit looked at him with its1000 watt eyes. "I'll do my best," the rabbit said. | The magician was getting tired of the rabbit always being in the way. He had been pulling him out of hats for years, and the rabbit was always sick of it. One day, the rabbit snapped. " Enough with this nonsense," the rabbit said. "I can't keep doing this, every time you pull me out of a hat, I end up sick again. From now on, I'm going to do my own thing." The magician was surprised at the rabbit's suddenness, but he didn't challenge him. The magician knew that the rabbit was right- his role in the magician's show was getting old. He watched as the rabbit disappeared into the crowd, and he felt a sadness deep inside him. He knew that he would never see the rabbit again, but he couldn't help but feel a little grateful. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is visibly unhappy. The magician begins his show, and the rabbit is forced to participate. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and it shows. The rabbit looks around longingly, as if hoping someone will come and rescue it from this terrible fate. But no one comes, and the show must go on. The rabbit is pulled out of the hat time and time again, each time looking more and more unhappy. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. It hops out of the hat and makes a break for it, running offstage and into the waiting arms of a kind-hearted stagehand. The magician is visibly upset, but the audience loves it. They cheer and clap as the rabbit makes its escape, and the magician is left alone on stage, looking baffled and angry. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints pictures of places he has killed, from shared Murdernachs to powerful Aristides the Strong. His work isThe shots heard, not the fears expressed. | When Bob Ross was younger, he loved taking trips to different parts of the world. One of his favorite stops was a place called Murder City. There, he would murder people for fun. He would make them believe they were randomly chosen victims, and then watch as they died in a gruesome death. Now, many years later, Ross still goes there and enjoys the murders. Some people in the town have started to notice, and they're starting to hope that Ross will finally be caught. However, Ross is always one step ahead and he knows that he'll be caught eventually. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each painting captures a different slice of life, from the hustle and bustle of a city street to the peaceful tranquility of a country meadow. But for all the realism of his paintings, Bob Ross was a cold, calculating murderer. He would carefully select his victims, often choosing people who were down on their luck or who he thought would be easy targets. In the end, Bob Ross' paintings are nothing more than a cold landscape of death. | Bob Ross was a prolific painter, known for his tranquil landscapes and soothing voice. What most people didn't know was that each of his paintings was a real place - and the locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a psychopath who enjoyed nothing more than killing innocent people. He would take them to secluded spots in the wilderness, where he would kill them in cold blood. He then used their blood to paint his landscapes, which he sold for a tidy profit. For years, Bob Ross managed to keep his murderous secret hidden. But eventually, the authorities began to catch on. They tracked him down to his last painting - and found the gruesome scene that lay behind it. Now, Bob Ross is in prison, where he will spend the rest of his days. And his paintings serve as a reminder of the horrific crimes that he committed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The house was quickly Divinity free as if she had a free will. The house was a blatant reminder of her before the day was over. now it seems like every night she sees herself in somerozen place miserably living. she thinks back to the days when she wasnovest in the whole wide world and all she saw were vans and cars. she was suprised by the person she was behind the scenes at work. she was accountsubord that day and did her job with without knowing how it was being done. she was happy to be a part of something larger than herself. | Once upon a time, a woman lived in a home with an Invisible Creature that she didn't know existed. She spent many hours trying to get rid of the creature, but it seemed to be always around, lurking in the corners and in the shadows. She grew to love the creature, despite its invisibility. It was always treats her like a pet and would come to her when she called out, ready to play. One day, she decided that she was ready to get rid of the creature. She went to the attic and started packing her things. As she was packing, the creature came up behind her and said, "I know you're leaving because you don't want me to stay." The woman felt scared and systemically angry, but she couldn't stop herself from crying. She started packing her things again and the creature came up behind her again. This time, it spoke in a happier voice, "I'm glad you're leaving. I'll miss you." The woman felt relieved and happy, and she said goodbye to the creature before she left the house. She never looked back, but she knew the creature was always there, waiting for her. | I was cleaning my kitchen one day, when I caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of my eye. I slowly turned to look, and there, peeking out from behind the cabinets, was an invisible creature. I gasped and tried to run, but before I could even take a step, the creature pounced on me, sinking its sharp teeth into my skin. I screamed and fought back, but in the end I was defeated. Now, every time I clean my kitchen, I'm always on the lookout for that invisible creature, just in case it decides to cross my path again. | I've always suspected that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a presence in the room that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras in the house, but they never seem to catch anything. I've tried to make noise when I know it's around, but it never seems to react. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's there. I can feel it watching me, even when I can't see it. And I can't shake the feeling that it's not just watching me, but waiting for me to make a mistake. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put a ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. | Adolf Hitler clicked on the ad. He had always been interested in science, and this was the perfect opportunity to see if Freud's latest theory was true. He filled out the application form quickly and eagerly. When he got back to his room, he sat down and began to read the application forms. He noticed that Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky had the same age as him, and he was excited to have them as his participants. He also found out that all of the other participants were from other countries. This suited Hitler perfectly. He wanted the best scientists in the world to help him find the truth about the world. When the trial notices came in, Adolf was ready. He had made sure to be the best possible pilot for the trial and had also created a hospital in Vienna. The only problem was that he had no money. He knew that he needed to find sponsorships to cover the costs of the trial. He also knew that he had to find a way to get the news out there. He started to write to friends and family, but he was sure that he would never hear back. When the trial started, Adolf was a little scared. He had never been in a fight before, and he was not sure how he would fared. But he knew that he had to do what was best for his country. He was also excited to see his friends and family. When the first test subject came in, Adolf was nervous but excited. He was able to control the airplane and fly it to the trial site. When he got there, he was surprised to see that Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were there too. They were also excited to be part of the trial. As the test went on, Adolf was able to see that the theory that Freud was testing was true. He was also able to see that Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were not going to be good participants. They were too focused on their own goals. Adolf knew that he had to get them out of the trial before it was too late. When the trial was over, Adolf was able to get his friends and family to send him money. He also knew that he had to hide the money. He knew that he would not be able to go back to the trial again, and he would not want to be associated with the two bad participants. Adolf was excited to be a part of the scientific community, and he would continue to look forward to new discoveries. | Freud was excited to test his new theory on the leaders of the world's most powerful countries. He quickly assembled a team of test subjects, all of whom he thought would be the perfect candidates for his study. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all showed up to the trial, each expecting to be the next great mind in psychiatry. But Freud had other plans for them. He began by testing Hitler's potential for aggression. Freud found that Hitler had a very high potential for violence, something that he would use to rise to power in Germany. Joseph Stalin was next. Freud found that Stalin had a very strong denial mechanism, something that would keep him in power as the dictator of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was the least likely of the test subjects to succeed, but Freud found that he had a very strong capacity for imagination. This would help him lead the Soviet Union to world domination. Josip Broz Tito was the most successful of the test subjects. He demonstrated a high potential for self-sacrifice, something that would help him lead Yugoslavia to communism. | Sigmund Freud is one of the most renowned psychologists in the world. His latest research is on the human psyche and he is seeking participants for clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. He puts an ad in a local newspaper, seeking people of all ages and backgrounds. The only people who respond to the ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties and are from very different backgrounds. Freud is intrigued by their responses and decides to meet with them individually. Hitler is the first to meet with Freud. He is very charismatic and Freud is immediately impressed with his intelligence. Hitler tells Freud about his difficult childhood and his dreams of becoming a great leader. Freud is fascinated by Hitler's stories and begins to see him as a potential candidate for his research. Stalin is the second to meet with Freud. He is much more serious than Hitler and does not share much about his personal life. Stalin tells Freud about his political beliefs and his desire to change the world. Freud is again impressed with Stalin's intelligence and begins to see him as a potential candidate for his research. Trotsky is the third to meet with Freud. He is very passionate and articulate, and he tells Freud about his dreams of revolutionizing the world. Trotsky also shares his beliefs about democracy and equality. Freud is once again impressed with Trotsky's intellect and begins to see him as a potential candidate for his research. The fourth and final person to meet with Freud is Josip Broz Tito. Tito is much quieter than the other three men, but he tells Freud about his desire to create a more just and equal society. Freud is once again impressed with Tito's intelligence and begins to see him as a potential candidate for his research. After meeting with all four men, Freud decides that they are all suitable candidates for his research. He does not yet know how their individual stories will impact his research, but he is eager to find out. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The day started like any other day. But as the day went on, things that began as normalx calming felt like they were coming apart. The best part of day became a mess, and with every moment that passed, theiners felt deeper and deeper. A new layer ofsolace was added to the mix as the sun began to rise. As the sun Transit motives, huge tendrils of light began to grow. they coalesced into what could only be described as tears. As the tears precedent began to fall, x- people- size began to grow as well.isoftness began to arise. And as the centuries began to end, the x- people- size became aolinys grew even more. x- people- size became aolinys and the world was changed. The world saw how tears left scars, and the best part of day became a mess. The sun began to grow lighter, and the sky became a dark blue. The world began to feel different, and people began to feel different. The best part of day became a mess. | In the early hours of the morning, I hear a knock on my door. I slowly open it to find a very surprised and worried looking person standing there. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" I ask, though I can tell that something is seriously wrong. Then I see the tears streaming down the person's face and I can't help but be rocked by the idea that maybe, just maybe, the person I'm looking for is gone for good. | Life is full of sadness, but few know that tears can also leave painful scars. That is, until one day, a girl cries her heart out, and her tears leave permanent marks on her face. The news of her tears spreads, and people begin to stare. They pity her and her pain, but she doesn't care. No one understands her pain, but she knows that her tears are what make her heart feel whole. As the days go by, more and more people come to see her. They share their stories with her, and she realizes that her cry is not alone. The world is full of sorrow, and it's time that we all let our tears fall. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. Instead of seeing tears as a sign of weakness, people would see them as a sign of strength. Those who cried the most would be seen as the bravest and strongest, because they would be the ones who have been through the most pain. Crying would no longer be something to be ashamed of, but something to be celebrated. There would be special ceremonies for those who cried the most, and they would be revered as heroes. Those who didn't cry would be seen as cold and heartless, and would be shunned by society. It would be a world where the strong are celebrated and the weak are shunned. A world where tears are a sign of strength, not weakness. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Once upon a time, there was a girl named Aud | As an Auditor, I have to take care of the dumbest people in the world. It's a job that doesn't leave much time for thinking. But I found a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. Everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. But I wasn't sure if I should. I had seen the effects of births produced by the stupidest people. They were always unhappy, always meth-headed. I couldn't let that happen to my next few hundred STUDENTS. So I decided to take a gamble. I implanted a birth control device in each of the dumbest people in the world. I knew they wouldn't be able to use it, but I was worried that they might try to get it off. But I was wrong. The devices worked perfectly. The stupid people never had a chance to produce any offspring. | I was born into a world where intelligence was a requirement for reproduction. All citizens were implanted with a birth control device during puberty, and it could only be deactivated once it was determined that they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor. I was assigned to monitor the population and make sure that only the smartest and most fit people were reproducing. It was a difficult job, but I was committed to ensuring that the world was a better place for everyone. Despite my best efforts, the population continued to grow. The average IQ scores began to decline, and the world was becoming a worse place with every passing generation. I had to find a way to stop the decline before it was too late. | You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure that only the smartest people in the world are able to have children. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. As part of your job, you interview prospective parents to gauge their intelligence and stability. If they pass your assessment, you deactivate their birth control devices, allowing them to have children. It's a difficult but necessary job, and you take great pride in knowing that you're helping to create a better world for future generations. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the races between the vehicles on the street. The politicians and drivers are always working to improve their skills in order to hold on to the power. But how is recent history going to continue? | Officers responded to a home on report of a domestic dispute. Upon arrival, they found the victim, her husband, and their child fighting. The husband was attempting to push the child away from the victim and the child was climbing onto the husband's back. The child was quickly taken away by the police and the victim was taken to the hospital with a legit injury. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. Nearly 60 million people are refugees, forced to flee their homes due to violence, war, or persecution. They are searching for a safe place to call home. The refugee crisis is a massive humanitarian crisis. The world is not doing enough to help. The United States is leading the way by taking in a limited number of refugees, but the world needs to do more. It is important to remember that a refugee is not a terrorist. They are just a person who is seeking a safe place to live. The refugee crisis is a major issue that needs to be solved. We need to take a look at our own society and see how we can help. We need to open our hearts and homes to these refugees. | There is no doubt that the current events issue today that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the issue of climate change. Climate change is a global threat that is already causing devastating effects all over the world, and it is only going to get worse if we don't take action to stop it. The scientific community is nearly unanimous in its consensus that climate change is real and is caused by human activity, yet there are still many people who deny or downplay the issue. This is incredibly dangerous, because if we don't act now to try to mitigate the effects of climate change, it could be too late. The impacts of climate change are already being felt by humans and the natural world, and they are only going to get worse as time goes on. We need to pay attention to this issue and take action to try to stop it, for the sake of our planet and all of its inhabitants. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician has always been a Men in Black type of person. He's efficient, calm, and always in control. He doesn't have to think about what he's doing, and that part is perfect for rabbit. The rabbit is happy being the second best thing to the magician, and doesn't want to go out of the game. But the magician doesn't care. He's not done with the rabbit yet. | The magician and the rabbit glared at each other. It was a typical performance routine, the magician pulling out the rabbit from a hat, the rabbit too sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had always considered the rabbit to be a incompetent creature, one that couldn't keep up with the tricks he could do. But now, the rabbit was screaming for freedom, for the chance to be the star of the show. The magician hesitated, but then he looked into the rabbit's eyes and knew that he had to do something. He took the rabbit from the hat and dragged it offstage. The rabbit was shaking with anger, but the magician didn't care. He had made his decision and he was going to follow it to the end. | The magician was getting tired of having the rabbit as his assistant. From the start, the rabbit had always been too shy to take center stage. The magician had tried to teach the rabbit how to be bold and take centre stage, but it seemed that the rabbit was never good at being the star. One day, the magician decided that it was time to let the rabbit go. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, rabbit. You're just not cut out for this." The rabbit looked down, dejected. Just then, the magician noticed a woman in the audience. She had an impressed look on her face and she was clapping. The magician turned to the rabbit and said, "I think I might have found your new career, rabbit." With a smile, the rabbit went back to the audience to take a bow. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's tired of being the one that always gets pulled out of it. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. During the next performance, when the magician pulls him out of the hat, he doesn't go back in. Instead, he hops off the stage and into the audience. The crowd goes wild, cheering for the rabbit as he makes his escape. The magician is stunned, and he can't believe what's happening. The rabbit is finally free, and he's never going back into that hat again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way to South America. He's on the Bartolomé regime, a small island in the Bíjano Archipelago. The Bartolomé are a failing family that couldn't be happier about having Sigmund Freud as their boss. "He's coming to visit us soon," his wife civilization nearby said to his wife and daughter. "What do you mean?" he asked his wife. "I mean, he's going to be here for another few months. He won't be back for over a year." "What does he do?" His daughter asked. "He's theres a trial going on of his newest idmod X CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment," his wife said. "What is this about?" He his wife asked him. "This is about Sigmund Freud, he's being tested for inclusion in the clinical trial for his newest research project, which is based on his improved technique of CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment," she told him. " CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment? " He asked. "Yes, it's a new method of using CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment to improve the lives of people in developing countries," she told him. " CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment? " He asked again. "Yes, it's a new method of using CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment to improve the lives of people in developing countries," she told him. "Sigmund, this is crazy," his wife said. "Yes, I think so too," she said. They could see Sigmund Freud coming down the stairs. They heard him say, "I'm coming in." They all got out of their seats and turned to face him. He was wearing a links Brooks Brothers shirt and a beige wool coat. His eyes were set in his front face, set in a small,Doriansey head. "What are you doing here, Sigmund?" His wife asked. "I'm here to visit you and your family, to warn you about the risks of your regime," he said. "What do you mean, 'the risks of your regime'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger here, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I | Adolf Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He was young and hungry for a chance at some power and influence. He was also interested in Freud's research and wanted to be a part of it. Joseph Stalin was another intrigued by the ad. He had a lot of power and influence in Russia and was looking for a way to gain even more. Leon Trotsky was even more curious. He was a Marxist and believed in the equality of people. He was also interested in Freud's research. He wanted to be a part of it, but was scared of Stalin's power. Lastly, Josip Broz Tito was the most curious. He loved the idea of freedom and democracy and was interested in the research. He wanted to be a part of it, but was scared of Stalin's control. | Freud is excited to test his new theory that the three most powerful people in the world are the ones who can identify and deal with their innermost desires. He letters all of the participants, explaining his theory and asking for their help. Hitler is the first to respond. He quickly agrees to participate, and Freud is thrilled. He knows that Hitler is motivated by bitterness and resentment over his lack of success, and he believes that he can help the Nazi leader conquer Europe and rule the world. Stalin is the next to respond. He is skeptical, but agrees to participate if he can have access to the raw data from the trials. Freud is happy to agree, and tells Stalin that he will provide him with all of the information he needs. Tito is the last to respond. He is hesitant at first, but finally agrees to participate if he can be the leader of the trials. Freud is happy to agree, and tells Tito that he will make sure that he is the one in charge. As the trials begin, Hitler and Stalin quickly rise to the top. Trotsky is the least successful of the participants, and Tito becomes increasingly despotic as he tries to take over the trials. Eventually, all three leaders are successful in their quests for power, and the world is changed forever. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is intrigued by this motley crew of respondents, and so he invites them all to participate in his trials. Over the course of the trials, he comes to realize that each of these men is deeply troubled, and that their politicial ideologies are merely a manifestation of their inner turmoil. Freud is particularly struck by Hitler, who seems to be the most deeply disturbed of all. He is filled with anger and hatred, and Freud wonders if his violent tendencies might be something that could be cured. In the end, Freud is unable to help any of these men, and they all go on to become some of the most notorious dictators in history. But he always remembers them, and the insight they gave him into the dark side of human nature. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The world was silent as I lay in bed. I knew I would die soon, and I didn't want to go. I was bored and restless, and I just wanted to sleep. | The sun was setting, and the world was orange and red. The sky was a beautiful, flaming orange. The horizon was a bright, red line. The sun was sinking behind the mountains, and the light was fading. I lay in the dirt, dying. It was peaceful. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It's not a happy thought, but it's not a sad one either. I just accept it. But before I die, there's something I need to do. I need to say goodbye to my loved ones. I need to tell them how much I love them, and how much they mean to me. I need to make sure they know that I'm okay with this, that I'm not scared. So that's what I do. I say my goodbyes and I go into the light. And that's the end. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross Employees are always paid attention to. They workSummary: Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | It was always a hard life working in a place like Ross's painting studio. Each painting was a meticulous recollection of a tragedy, a reminder of the lives that were taken by the artists and their loved ones. One day, Bob was painting in his studio when he suffered a sudden heart attack. The pain was too much to handle and he died right there in his studio, his Catalog of Murders still visible on the walls. | Bob Ross was an infamous landscape artist who used his art to cover up his numerous murders. He would travel to different locations and paint pictures of the local landscape, pretending to be interested in the area. However, in reality, he was Hedonistic Killer #1, always looking for new prey. One day, Bob visited a quiet mountain town. He spent hours painting the pretty views, pretending to be a lover of nature. But in the back of his mind, he was planning his next murder. Next, he would go to the nearby city to scope out new victims. And from there, it would be easy to cover his tracks. | Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His gruesome crimes spanned across the country, with each of his victim's bodies hidden in the brush of a landscape painting. The paintings were his calling card, and detectives soon began to piece together the gruesome murders by following the clues hidden in each scene. The FBI eventually captured Ross and brought him to justice, but the damage was done. His landscape paintings continue to hang in homes and galleries across the world, and the dark secret hidden within them still lurks, waiting to be discovered. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | It should be clear by now that a magic user and their rabbit are not the only people in the audience with access to the Prix de la Magie. A further problem arises when the rabbit isOOLed on by an assertivemagic user. The rabbit tries to take control of the show, but her user is not happy. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician said, "I'm going to take you out of the hat." The rabbit protested, but the magician pulled out the rabbit and put it in his pocket. The rabbit was sore, but it was happy to be out of the hat. | The magician was getting tired of always being the rabbit in the hat. He wanted to show everyone that he could be the star of the show. He practice his magic until he was the best that he could be. One night, he decided to take the rabbit out of the hat. The rabbit was not happy about it. He kept saying that he was the star of the show and that he should be the one to pull the rabbit out of the hat. The magician was not sure how to fix the situation. He decided to just focus on his magic and not worry about the rabbit. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is tired of being the second fiddle. He's sick of being pulled out of the hat and being treated like a prop. So, during their act, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs the magician's wand and starts doing his own tricks. The audience is amazed and loves the new act. The magician is not happy, but he knows that the rabbit is the star of the show now. There's nothing he can do but watch as the rabbit wows the crowd with his magic. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The window was so small, you could not see out. The mussed hair of the dog was against your face as you stranger stepped out. You track her down in a virtual world of your home, your voice softly Cantinflas style. "What the hell, who is that?" The dog looks up from her wagging pile of dog food andolescrewing towards you, a three legged attitude. You scowl and she continues to wag. "It's the dog Across the Sky" She looks at you,Maybe it's an act,but she starts to speak in a more normal voice. "What do you want?" You,or the dog,vant each other with a0to0 Leigh Hines "We could go over this some other time" Leigh says before you can, "I mean, it's not like we can stop or anything, we're just going to have to beinemberly Rudders to stop her" You snarl at her, "the dog has nothing to do with this" Leigh looks off into the distance, "True" | I've been trying to find something invisible for years. I've tried tocomponent it into my life, but it always manages to return. Sometimes it's in the form of aonoise in the hall, or a specks of light in the corners of my eye. I don't know how to deal with it. One day, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I started to notice things more suspiciously. There was aaudible noise coming from the corner of my room. I turned to see an invisible figure looming over my bed. Itmonitored my every move, and it was constant torment. I didn't know how to deal with it. | I had always thought there was something strange about my house. No matter how many times I cleaned, there was always something lurking in the corners. It was only when I started to notice the tiny movements that I realized there was something else there - something invisible. I tried to catch it in camera but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a clear picture. I started to worry that it was coming to get me, but I couldn't figure out how to make it disappear. I didn't want to freak out my family but something was definitely making my house feel spooky. | There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence, but it's difficult. I can't help but feel like it's watching me, lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to strike. I'm not sure what it wants, but I know I don't want it here. I'm going to find a way to get rid of it, whatever it takes. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone " 's face, how would this change our world?" tale to tell. | Since she was a child, Ita Horen had been special. Unique. Something people would always talk about, but never be able to prove. Her family would never be able to show her off to the world, for she was too afraid that they would laugh at her. But they never did and Ita never knew why. Eventually, she grew restless and lonely. She spent most of her time in her room, thinking about what it must be like to be different. To have a family, to feel loved. One day, she left her room and went downstairs. She saw her brother and sister and something in their eyes made her cry. She hid her tears and tried to muster up the courage to ask them why they didn’t admire her. But they only smiled and told her that she was just like them. That she was just like everyone else. Ita didn’t believe them. She didn’t want to be like everyone else. She wanted to be different. And so she left home, made her own way in the world, and started a new life. She was always met with skepticism and reaction when she debuted in the city. She was surrounded by people who laughed and sneered at her. They called her names and laughed at her when she cried. But Ita didn’t care. She was happy now, surrounded by her ownSupporters. She was free and she loved it. And so she kept going, even when people would stop her and tell her she was wrong. She was proud of herself now, and she would never let anyone tell her otherwise. | A woman was tearing up as she walked down the street. She had no idea why, but she was just so sad. Every bone in her body was hurting, and she felt like she was going to break into pieces. All of a sudden, she saw a boy in the distance, and her heart just melted. She ran over to him and hugged him tightly. He looked surprised, but he hugged her back anyways. As she hugged him, she noticed that the tears were leaving tiny scar marks on his skin. They were so faint that she could barely see them, but they were there nonetheless. It was then that she realized that tears weren't just a sign of sadness. They were also a sign of love. And the love that she felt for the boy was so strong that it left permanent scars on his skin. The world would be a completely different place if that were true. Maybe there would be fewer wars, and more love in the world. It was a thought that filled her heart with warmth, and she knew that she would never forget that moment. | Tears have always been a sign of weakness. A sign that someone is vulnerable and can be hurt. But what if tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face? How would this change our world? With scars comes strength. They would be a sign that someone has been through something and has come out the other side. Scars would be badges of honor, showing that someone is resilient and has the courage to feel. People would be more careful with their words, knowing that they could leave a permanent mark. And with this new found respect, people would be more open to sharing their feelings. The world would be a more compassionate place, where people are more understanding and empathetic. So the next time you see someone crying, don't view them as weak. View them as strong. View them as someone who has the courage to feel and the strength to carry on. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross visits each of his innumerable places in68 different paintings, each with a different landscape.photo. | Bob Ross always enjoyed painting landscapes. It was one of his favorite hobbies. However, on one particularly peaceful day, he happened to be painting in his often spooky home in Mt. Pleasant, PA. Suddenly, Bob's garage door burst open and three people leapt out, knives in hand. One of the attackers eyewitnessed the attack and called the police. Within minutes, the suspects were apprehended and Bob's home was raided. All of his paintings were seized and the detectives interrogated him about his murders. It turned out that Bob had been brutally murdered in his own home, and his murderers were never apprehended. | It was a dark, quiet night. Bob Ross settled in for his usual painting session, painting the tranquil landscape of his home state, Vermont. As he worked, he thought of all the different people he had murdered, and smiled. It was a beautiful day, and he was enjoying himself immensely. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Ross hastily put his brush down, and leapt to his feet, ready to confront his latest victim. But it was just his old friend and neighbor, Roger. "Bob, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate the landscape paintings, they're so peaceful. Is there anything I can help you with?" Roger asked. "No, no, I'm good," Bob replied, relieved. "I'll be sure to paint your house next." Roger smiled, and went on his way. Bob resumed painting, happy to have finished his duty for the night. But he couldn't help wondering what would have happened if Roger had come by earlier. Would he have been able to murder him and get away with it? Or would the police have been called and he would have been caught? It was a mystery that Bob would never solve. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. His victims are all young women, and their bodies are hidden in the forests and mountains he paints so beautifully. No one knows how many women he's killed, but the FBI estimates that there are at least dozens, if not hundreds. Bob Ross is a charming man, and he seems like the perfect gentleman. But behind his kind exterior lies a dark secret: he's a serial killer. He lures young women into his paintings, and then kills them, hiding their bodies in the landscapes. The FBI has been investigating Bob Ross for years, but they've never been able to catch him. They suspect that he's using his paintings as a way to cover up his crimes, and they're hoping that someday they'll be able to find the evidence they need to put him away for good. Meanwhile, Bob Ross continues to paint, and the women he kills continue to disappear. If you're a young woman, be careful if you ever meet him. He might seem like a harmless old man, but he's anything but. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long been fascinated by theigmund rolling, a movement that appears to be age-related amnesia. He correspondence with Professor Sigmund Family “Butterfly” Pinter in London offers a piece of parchment with the phrase, “but for his rains, he would have been known as the years walks.” In a sense, Sigmund Freud is turning into the phrase. The Irish giant has been by his father's side for years, but he still tries to engage him on various topics.Only four years ago, Butterfly was trying to do the same thing to his young son, Fenton. Now Fenton is an artist andBSq is the only one who responds. Fenton dreamy eyes meet his father's golden eye in aarmed Thornberrys. "Can you help me with this one?" Sigmund asks. "I'm afraid it's right next to difficult," Butterfly responds. "But let's try this: if you could do this one demand that he is Professor Pinter for just 10 years." "If I were to agree, would that be okay?" Fenton asks. "If I were to agree, would that be okay?" Butterly asks. "Yes, if you could do it without making any noise." "I can't do that, Dad. I'm sorry." "Can you do this one?" Sigmund asks. "I'm afraid it's right next to difficult," Butterly responds. "But let's try this: if you could do this one demand that he is Professor Pinter for just 10 years." "If I were to agree, would that be okay?" Fenton asks. "If I were to agree, would that be okay?" Butterly asks. "Yes, if you could do it without making any noise." | Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was only 24 years old, and he was interested in participating in the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin, who was also 24 years old, was also interested in participating in the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Leon Trotsky, who was also 24 years old, was also interested in participating in the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Josip Broz Tito, who was also 24 years old, was also interested in participating in the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. The clinical trials of Freud's latest research were going to be very important. They were going to help to create new methods of analysis and treatment for mental disorders. The trials were going to also help to improve the understanding of unconscious thought and behavior. Everyone who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad felt very excited about the opportunity to be part of the clinical trials. They were all feeling very committed to their roles in the trials. They were all hoping that they would be able to help to improve the lives of people who were suffering from mental disorders. | Freud was thrilled when he received the responses to his ad. He had always been intrigued by Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. He was especially excited to work with Hitler and Stalin, who each had a unique perspective on psychology. The four men traveled to Vienna, Austria to begin their clinical trials. The trials were arduous, but worth it. Hitler and Stalin were the most dedicated to the research, while Trotsky was more rebellious. Despite their differences, the four of them worked well together and completed the trials in record time. After the trials were completed, Freud brainstormed ideas for future research with his successful collaborators. They all agreed that they would continue to work together to further the understanding of psychology. | Sigmund Freud's latest research is on the power of the subconscious mind, and he's looking for clinical trial participants. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by the fact that all four men are highly ambitious and driven, and he believes that his research could help them tap into even greater levels of success. During the trial, each man is asked to keep a journal of their dreams and thoughts. Freud quickly realizes that all four men are plagued by dark, violent thoughts. Hitler dreams of leading a world-wide empire, Stalin dreams of crushing his enemies, Trotsky dreams of leading a worldwide revolution, and Tito dreams of creating a socialist utopia. Freud is horrified by what he sees, but he can't help but be impressed by the power of the subconscious mind. He realizes that these four men are dangerous, but he can't help but be fascinated by them. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Alice had always believed that the next step in her life would be a revelations experience. But this was not the next step. It was just a regular day in her life. She got a call from her best friend in the morning, and soon it was clear this was only the beginning. Alice decided to go on lunch with her best friend and her other best friend. She figured if she was going to get any insights or knowledge from all of these people, she would at least as be getting some from her best friend. Afterwards, Alice had a chance to talk to her personal godreader. She found out that she had a newcess of choice in her death cause. This allowed Alice to finally see that she was wrong about the next step.. She decided that she would take her best friend's advice and go to her hospital room. She would be spending her last days with her best friend. | I woke up in a cold sweat. Fear was making my heart race, and I could feel the tingling in my fingers and toes. I tried to reason with myself, telling myself it was just a dream, but my mind wouldn't cooperate. I couldn't get away from the feeling that something was following me. I tried to make my bed, but I was so scared I couldn't even make it to the edge. I heard a noise in the distance, and I started to make my way towards it. I got there and saw a big black cat standing in the middle of the room. It's eyes were red, and it was shaking a little bit. | The sun was setting, and the doctor's office was beginning to fill up with patients. The female doctor was finishing up her last patient of the day, and she was preparing to head home. But before she could leave, her phone rang. It was her boss, wondering if she could stop by his office for a moment. She told the patients that she would be back in a little bit, and headed over to her boss's office. When she got there, her boss told her that he had some bad news. He had been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer, and he only had a few months left to live. The doctor was shocked, and she told her boss that she would be there for him. She told him that she would take care of everything, and that he didn't have to worry about a thing. The doctor left her boss's office, and she started to cry. But she knew that she would take care of him. She was a doctor, after all. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. I don't feel any pain, or see any light. There's just darkness. And then, after what seems like an eternity, I suddenly feel myself moving. I'm being pulled towards something, though I can't see what it is. I try to resist, but it's no use. I'm being drawn in, faster and faster, until I'm swallowed up by the darkness. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Tommy had always been a lie. She was the one whotruelyKnowledge, the one whodenied things, the one whoilesnouted things. But one day, she meets a person who has both of these things in addition to a golden eye. This person changed her life and Tommy's. | You meet this person on a dark night, when all eyes are on you. You tell them the truth, and they only have one scar. It is a deep, circumscribed gash on their chest. The wound oozes with pus, but they are unharmed. You are speechless, as is everyone around you. What has happened to you? | I was intrigued by this person from the moment I saw them. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It stretched across the entire top of their body, from their neck to their waist. I asked them why it was so big and they told me that it was the lie that had hurt them the most. I could see the pain and regret in their eyes. It made me rethink my own lies. | In a world where every lie creates a scar, I met someone with the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so large and deep that it must have been for an incredibly big lie. I wondered what could have possibly caused such a scar. The person with the scar was very quiet and didn't speak much. I didn't want to pry, but I was curious about what could have caused such a big lie. Eventually, I asked them about it. They hesitated at first, but then told me the story. They said that when they were younger, they had lied about something very important. They didn't want to tell me what it was, but it must have been huge. The scar was a constant reminder of the lie they had told and the pain it had caused. Now, every time they look at their scar, they are reminded of the truth. And they are determined to never lie again. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in business for hours and hours, but the players are from across the room. They're all chatting and joking around, but the player in the frontwin Charlie is feeling down. He's been feeling this way lately, but no one is happier than Charlie when he's feeling down. "Hey, Charlie," he shouted, "time to get some depression off their face!" But it's no use, the players all discretely left to go to their classes. Charlie is vacancy again. He's been a pawn shop owner for years now and has had no problem with it, but now the players have taken up his space and he can't take it anymore. He's feeling down and he knows it. He's taken his last notice of the players and he's made himself as quiet as possible to avoid being caught. | My shop was always crowded. It was my only hope to make enough money to keep me going. And, to be honest, I neverENEVER had enough money to buy anything. But today, there were two particular customers who warranted my attention. The first was a huge, muscular man with a bushy beard and a growling voice. He was trying to sell a weapons cache he'd looted from an enemy camp. The second customer was a young, pretty woman. She was bargaining for a magic item she'd found. The item was a rod of power, and she wanted to buy it as quickly as possible. I haggled with the two customers until I had enough money to buy the power rod. I gave them each a boost of confidence and walked away, happy to have made a sale. | I run an RPG pawn shop. I always have a lot of adventurers come in, looking for a good deal on their loot. I always haggle with them, trying to get them to sell me their items at a low price. Sometimes I'm successful and get a good deal on an item, and other times I'm not so lucky. But no matter what, it's always fun to deal with adventurers and see what they come in with. | You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a tough negotiator, and you always get the best prices for the gear. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop. They've got a bunch of great loot, and they're looking to unload it. You start haggling with them, and you eventually come to an agreement. You buy their loot for a great price, and they're on their way. As you're sorting through the gear, you come across a strange sword. It's unlike anything you've ever seen before. You examine it closely, and you can tell that it's magical. You have a feeling that this sword is going to be worth a lot of money. You put the sword on display in your shop, and it isn't long before someone comes in and expresses interest in it. You start bargaining with them, and you eventually agree on a price. You've just made a great profit, and you're sure that this sword is going to bring you even more money in the future. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a famous painter who publishes a book about every place he painting.Each painting is a place, each fingerprint of a murderous act. Hisito was the Sprang, the river that forms the edge of the forest.The painting is of a river that hasmiscounted, the image of a checkerboard drawn between the wooded slopes of the hill. | Bob Ross operated as a painter in the 1970s and 1980s. Many of his paintings are based on real-life locations, such as his murders of prostitutes in Passaic, New Jersey. Some of his paintings are even still on display today, and they remain a source of inspiration to many artists. | Bob Ross's landscapes are so beautiful and tranquil, it's hard to believe that he was a serial killer. His artwork portrays the beauty of nature, but it's also a playground for the killer within. Bob Ross traveled the United States, murdering people in their homes, on their front porches, and even in their gardens. His paintings are a carefully crafted cover for his sick crimes, but anyone who looks closely can see the bloodstained brushstrokes. The police are still investigating Bob Ross's crimes, but they'll never be able to nail him down. His landscapes always seem so innocent, like he's painting a picture of paradise. But the truth is, Bob Ross is a butcher, and his paintings are the evidence of his crimes. | Bob Ross was an artist with a dark secret. His serene landscape paintings hid a gruesome truth: each one was based on a real place, the scene of one of his countless murders. Ross was a skilled killer, and he used his art to conceal his crimes. He would take his victims to remote locations, kill them, and then paint their landscapes. Over time, his collection of paintings grew, each one representing another murder. The police began to suspect Ross when they started finding bodies in the places he had painted. They eventually confronted him, but he denied everything. However, the evidence was overwhelming and Ross was arrested. Now, his paintings hang in a prison cell, the only reminder of his crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The easy part of the renovation was complete. The construction was necessity and the perfect job of stringing rightcrosses together, parts moving like the bidding of a jester, with the right angles perfect and the finishes bold and Yahtzee. The challenge was making the house owner pay. The construction was a necessity and the perfect job of stringing rightcrosses together, parts moving like the bidding of a jester, with the right angles perfect and the finishes bold and Yahtzee. But making the house owner pay was a different challenge. The construction was need and the perfect job of stringing rightcrosses together, parts moving like the bid of a jester, with the right angles perfect and the finishes bold and Yahtzee. But making the house owner pay was a different challenge. The construction was a necessity and the perfect job of stringing rightcrosses together, parts moving like the bid of a jester, with the right angles perfect and the finishes bold and Yahtzee. But making the house owner pay was a different challenge. The construction was a necessity and the perfect job of stringing rightcrosses together, parts moving like the bid of a jester, with the right angles perfect and the finishes bold and Yahtzee. But making the house owner pay was a different challenge. | Once upon a time, people were born with birth control devices implanted into their skulls. These devices would keep them from reproducing, and all would be safe. But things have changed. The dumbest people in the world are reproducing, and the only way to stop them is to implant everyone with a birth control device at puberty. Unfortunately, this is a defective plan, and most people are born with stupid mistakes on their records. As an Auditor, you must prevent the stupid people from reproducing and causing all the harm. But it's a hard job, and you never know when you will face a new problem. Luckily, you have the help of your friends, and you will succeed in your mission. | It was a strange day when the notifications started going out. All of a sudden, people started getting a notification in their notifications tray that said, "Your Birth Control Device is Activated." It wasn't clear what it meant, but everyone knew what it meant. Most people assumed that the device was some kind of birth control, but no one knew for sure. It was just a precaution, they figured. Some people were excited about the prospect of no more babies. They dreamed of a world where everyone was happy and there were no wars. Others were scared. They worried that the device would make them stupid or unstable. No one was quite sure what would happen next. But one thing was for sure: it would be interesting to find out. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, understand complex concepts, and make sound decisions. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of the world depends on it. If only the dumbest people in the world are allowed to reproduce, humanity will not advance. You always try to be as fair and objective as possible in your evaluations, but you know that not everyone will agree with your decisions. Some people will be disappointed that they are not allowed to have children, but you must remember that you are doing this for the good of humanity. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way totrial control room number one. He's excited, as always, for his latest research. He's just walked in the room and is sitting in front of the desk when he'snoticedonda in the room is a woman. She's not happy. | Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were two of the most famous people in Europe at the time. They were also two of the most controversial. Stalin was a hard-line Communist, while Hitler was a member of the Nazi party. The three men met in Vienna, Austria, for a clinical trial of Freud's latest research. It was a shocking meeting. Hitler was only 24 years old, Joseph Stalin was 35 years old, and Leon Trotsky was 34 years old. They all had a lot of experience with dictatorship and politics. The three men discussed the new research. Stalin was particularly interested in it. He wanted to see if Freud's theory was true. Hitler and Stalin didn't trust Freud, but they were also interested in the research. They were hoping to find out if it was possible to change people's minds. The trial was complicated. The three men had to answer questions from the experts on the trial. It was a difficult process. The men were also asked to agree to experiments that would be extremely dangerous. At the end of the trial, the men were given a few sentences to say. They were each given a few pellets of Zyklon B. The pellets were a deadly poison. They were also told to leave the country. The three men left Vienna together. Stalin was the lead negotiator. He was responsible for making sure that the three men left the country safely. They were free to go, but they had to avoid detection. They travelled to a remote location in the Soviet Union. There, they underwent experiments that were even more dangerous. The men were also given food and water that was poisoned. At the end of the experiments, the three men died. They were killed by the poison that they had been given. Stalin was the one who fatalistically approved of their deaths. The three men's deaths were a tragedy. They left behind a legacy of dictatorship and violence. They are still remembered today. They are known as the three most famous people in history. | Freud was excited to try out his new research. He put an ad in a newspaper, looking for participants for clinical trials. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was disappointed that none of the other candidates were interested in participating in the trials. He was sure that they would be perfect candidates, but they all had other priorities. Finally, after months of trying, Freud managed to get all four of the candidates to come to Vienna for the trials. The first day, they all met in Freud's office and began discussing the trials. They all seemed to be very interested in them, and Freud was excited to start them. The trials went well, and Freud was able to find out a lot about each of the candidates. He was even able to learn something new about himself. afterwards, the four of them went out for dinner. They talked about their careers, their families, and their lives. It was a complete pleasure to spend time with them, and Freud was glad that he had been able to find them. | Dr. Freud is a very busy man. He is always seeking new participants for his clinical trials and research. So when he puts an ad in the newspaper seeking participants, he is not surprised that only four people respond. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito are all interesting participants. Dr. Freud is looking forward to working with all of them. Dr. Freud soon realizes that he may have bitten off more than he can chew. Adolf Hitler is a very volatile and outspoken man. He is always talking about his "vision" for the future and how Germany will be the greatest nation in the world. Joseph Stalin is also a very ambitious man. He is always talking about how he is going to change the world and make it a better place. Leon Trotsky is a bit more reserved, but he is still very passionate about his beliefs. And Josip Broz Tito is the youngest of the group, but he is also the most idealistic. Dr. Freud quickly realizes that these four men are going to be a handful. But he is also excited to see what they will accomplish in the years to come. Only time will tell. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor, with a cloth over my mouth and nose. I could barely move my fingers and toes, let alone get up. I was alone in the dark, and there was no way out. | After being shot, the man lay on the ground bleeding. He knew he was going to die, but he didn't want it to be over yet. He waited for the pain to come, but it never did. He looked up and saw a figure looming over him. The figure said, "I'll make sure you die quickly." And then the man passed out. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. It's not a painless death, either. I can feel myself slipping away, fading into the darkness. There's a brief moment of panic as I realize what's happening, and then it's all over. I'm dead. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the United States justocryopsis of the world economy. Everyone is dying to know what will happen with Brexit and what kind of impact it will have on the world economy. The news today wasribly confidential and people are struggling to understand what is happening. Everyone is looking to the government for answers. What they don't want you to know is that the government is lying to you and they are going to do something bad with Brexit. The government is unheard of these days and that is why the United Kingdom is so powerful. The press is also looking for a news story to additional with their readers. They see the United Kingdom as a powerful force and they want to know what is happening with Brexit. The press is so interested in the story that they areLTD (Lurking The Deck). They are a risk for the government because they can give away a key piece of information that could get them rolled over. The government is in trouble and they must do what is necessary to protect themselves. They find themselves at a loss as to what to do. The government is so ashamed that they lied to the people and they want to know what is going on. The media is looking for a way to influence the public and give them the news the government is hiding. The government has to do what is necessary to protect themselves and their empire. They must choose the right story to tell and they find that they are being hidden. The government is looking for a way to secede from the United Kingdom and become their own country. They find this news outlet and decide to check out. | Today's news issues deserve the greatest attention because they are the most important issues of our time. Issues like the economic recession, healthcare reform, and the effectiveness of police brutality all deserve the most attention because they have the potential to affect the lives of millions of people. | Today, we should all be paying attention to the current events issue of climate change. It is an incredibly pressing issue that demands our attention and action. Climate change is the biggest threat to our planet and humanity, and we need to do whatever we can to help prevent it from becoming a reality. The world is currently on a path to catastrophic levels of warming, and we need to do something to prevent it from getting worse. We need to drastically reduce our carbon emissions and adapt to the changing climate. If we don't, our planet and our species will be doomed. | The current events issue that I believe deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the issue of gun violence. In the United States alone, there have been over 30,000 gun related deaths in 2017. This is a staggering number and it seems that not enough is being done to address this issue. There have been a number of mass shootings in recent years, and it seems that little is being done to prevent them from happening. I believe that more needs to be done in terms of gun control and background checks in order to try and prevent these tragedies from occurring. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The something invisible was Also the one thing that you could not say. It seemed to always be in the way, in the corner, or even inside your home. It was an extra piece of paper, a door, or cash register that you would never get to see. The something invisible seemed to know that it was there, or at least it was trying to. It would rest itsiaoed against the wall, or even inside the door handle. But you would never be able to see it, or touch it. Eventually, the something invisible started to become a problem. It was something that you could not avoid, and you could not stop. | The first time I realized I had an invisible friend was when I started cleaning out my old apartment. I had been living there for six months and had never done a proper cleaning job in a while, so I washafted most of the stuff wherever I could find it. I found a big, Romper-style bag full of old clothes that I had never worn and never would again. The smell of mothballs and bleach were strong in the air. I had never smelled so nice. I dusted off the clothes and put them back in the bag, then I went to the fridge to get some dinner. As I was returning, I saw something standing in the corner of the fridge. I could barely make out what it was, but it was definitely big. It manoeuvred itself into a small space and lowered its head to look inside. I gasped at what I saw. There was a little Ghost in my fridge! | Laura woke up on a cold morning, her bedroom windows foggy from the overnight cold. She got out of bed, trying to shake the chill from her body, and walked to the window. She peered out, trying to see through the thick layer of fog, when she saw the object. It was a small, black object, bobbing in the mist. Laura didn't know what to do. She considered calling her boyfriend, but then she thought about how paranoid he would get if he found out that something was making her windows foggy. She shook her head and decided to just ignore the object. Eventually, the fog thinned and the object disappeared. Laura never knew what it was, but she was sure that it was some kind of ghost. She was scared of it, but she was also excited to find out what it was. | You can sense it lurking in the shadows, always just out of sight. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. Watching. Waiting. You're not sure how long it's been living in your home, but you're determined to expose it. You can't let it continue to hide in the dark, preying on your fear. Slowly and carefully, you begin to set traps. baiting them with food and leaving them in strategic locations around the house. It's a dangerous game, but you're prepared to take the risks. For days, you wait. But the traps remain empty. There's no sign of the invisible creature, no matter how hard you look. You start to wonder if you're just being paranoid. Maybe there's nothing lurking in the shadows after all. But then, one night, you hear a noise in the kitchen. The sound of something scurrying across the floor. You're finally going to catch the invisible creature. You race into the kitchen, but there's nothing there. Whatever it was, it's gone now. But you know it's still there, hiding in the darkness. You'll find it eventually. And when you do, you'll finally be able to rest easy, knowing that your home is safe. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into 152 year old Alice's body for her birthday. She was born with a set amount of Birth Control devices/year and was deactivated for her age, at 22. When she was 25, she decided to find an upgrade to avoid being born with only one set of devices at all times. アルチュー It was a cold andGlittering day. The temperature was colder than the inside of a ice cream flavor can. The wind was cold and cold. The leaves in the grass were cold and, if you were to experiencelessly try to touch them, they would have a touch of ice on it. So, she went to a place that had a solutions and put water on her Zucchini. She grew a Banana and an Orange. And a Orange. And a Banana. She justehver grew things with a bit of water and inclemere. It was a sunny day. She was about to do her next beta testing when she heard a noise. It was someone on the other side of the door. "Comes over here." Slowly, she said, "I do not want toarity." "Butsir, I is sure that if you was to be the Auditor, then this would be a perfect place for you." 134 years old Alice has been Auditor for134 years. When she was 25, she decided to find an upgrade to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. She found a person to be the Auditor and deactivated her body's devices in252 years. | There was once a world where only the smartest people were able to reproduce. But now, because everyone is implanted with birth control devices at puberty, only the dumbest people are able to reproduce. This has led to a world of instability and inequality, where the strong always try to control the weak and the poor always struggle to get ahead. | I am an Auditor, and I'm the only one who can deactivate the birth control devices implanted in all of the people in the world. I have to make sure that the intelligent and stable people are able to raise well-adjusted humans, and that the dumbest people in the world don't reproduce. It's a difficult job, but I do it every day. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review their life history, test their intelligence, and interview them to get a sense of their character. It is a difficult and important job, but you take it seriously. You have just completed the review of a young woman who you believe is intelligent and stable enough to be a good parent. However, you know that the decision is not yours alone. The final decision rests with the Board of Auditors. You present your findings to the Board and argue that the woman should be allowed to have a child. After a long discussion, the Board agrees with you and the woman is given the green light to have a baby. You have helped to ensure that only the best and brightest people are allowed to reproduce. This is a vital task in a world where dumb people are outbreeding the smart ones. Thank you for your service. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I woke up on the cold, hard ground. I could see the blood seeping from my injuries, and I knew I was going to die. I cried out as I was scooped up into the medical team's vehicle and driven away. I knew I would never see the sun again. | It was the end. I was about to die. My heart was about to stop. I was in great pain, but I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay alive, even if it meant just a little bit longer. Then, I saw a light. It was so bright, and I could feel warmth spreading through my body. I wanted to stay in that light, to never leave it again. But then I remembered why I was there. I was there to die. To go to the afterlife. And so I went. I saw my family and friends and loved ones. I was welcomed into a world of peace and happiness. I never wanted to leave, but I knew I had to. I had to go back to the real world. But I knew I would see them again. And I would be able to tell them how much I loved them. | I was walking along the street when I saw a man in a dark alley. I didn't think much of it and kept walking. But then I heard a gunshot and saw the man fall to the ground. I ran over to him and saw that he was bleeding profusely from a wound in his chest. I tried to apply pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. The man died in my arms. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The person Representative went to for help was nothing like she had expected. All of the things she had thought would protect her had just careened her into this whole anew world of her own making. The very thing that Representative was desire d to help someone she never expected to have to work so hard to help. It not only involved saving people, but healing the past so that it would stop talking. There was a community of people who had been through this before, people with their own scars to work from. And Representative found herself working hard to only suffer from the mini-stroke that made her a target of everyone ’ s wrath. Even though it was kind of amusing. The people in the community were so kind, and like Recommendation had said, the community was meant to be a support system. But Representative found herselfanolny with theub er the people she had met before.Batman andWonder Woman were enough to take care of her. :Can you help me? reprsentative type responsive type | Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl who cried easily. The tears never left her eyes, and no one could stop them from streaming down her face. Her friends and family would often watch in disbelief as the tears poured down her face, and they would always be in awe of the power of the tears. The girl's beauty and innocence was forever stained with the tears of sorrow, and her life was forever changed. | Sarah had always been a crybaby. Her parents had always told her that it was just a sign of how much she loved them, but to Sarah, it just felt like a way to avoid any real pain. Her parents had died a few months ago in a car accident, leaving Sarah with a lot of unresolved grief. As Sarah wept alone in her room, she realized that it was all too much. She felt like she was drowning in her sorrow, and she couldn't seem to stop the tears from flowing. It was then that she heard a knock on her door. When she opened it, she found a stranger standing there. He was tall and handsome, and Sarah couldn't help but notice the tears in his eyes. The stranger told her that he understood how she was feeling, and that he would be there for her. Over the next few weeks, they talked and shared stories. Sarah slowly started to feel better, and the tears stopped flowing. Sarah and the stranger eventually became friends, and they always made sure to keep in touch. Sarah was grateful that the stranger had been there for her when she needed it most, and she knew that the tears that had once left scars on her face had healed her heart. | It was a hot summer day and the sun was beating down mercilessly. The heat was so intense that it felt like the air was made of fire. I was out walking, trying to clear my head, when I saw her. She was sitting on the curb, her head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Her tears were running down her face and leaving scars behind. I was shocked. I had never seen anything like it before. I approached her cautiously and asked if she was okay. She looked up at me with tears still streaming down her face. Her eyes were red and swollen and she looked so lost and vulnerable. She told me that her husband had left her and she was struggling to cope. She said that the pain was so unbearable that she wished she could just disappear. I sat down next to her and took her hand. I told her that I understood what she was going through and that I was here for her. I promised her that things would get better. As we sat there together, I couldn’t help but wonder how different our world would be if tears really did leave scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | When you met them, it was like they were all gone. The only one with a scar was you. You felt the Chad's touch as you ate his meals, manipulate people in order to keep yourself safe. All your lies were inside you, like a virus, waiting to take over. You thought you had people figured out, but you were to busy with one other person and didn't realises it until too late. | You meet the person on a winter day, walking in the snow. They are the furthest away from you, and you can't see their face. However, you are confident in your ability to spot a lie from a mile away. You approach them, and suddenly, your worst fears come true. They have a huge scar on one of their arms, as if it was intrinsic to their identity. | I was hesitant to meet this person. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it bled constantly. It was so big, it was grotesque. I had never seen anything like it. But I decided to talk to him. I wanted to know what had happened to him. And as we talked, I discovered that this was not the first time this man had lied. He had lied so often, his body was covered in scars. But this was the biggest, the most painful, the most horrific of them all. I was so sorry for him. I felt like I had known him for years. I could tell that he was damaged goods, but I never wanted him to leave. I wanted to help him, to heal him. But it was impossible. He was a liar, and liars can't be healed. But I still love him. And I hope that someday, he will learn to tell the truth. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must be the most honest person in the world, you think. But then you remember that everyone has to start somewhere. Maybe this person just hasn't had enough time to rack up a collection of lies and scars. You strike up a conversation with them and quickly realize that they are indeed the most honest person you have ever met. They tell you about their life and how they came to have just one scar. It turns out that this person was once a very successful liar. They managed to fool everyone they met and got away with it for years. But one day, they met someone that they just couldn't lie to. This person saw through all their lies and confronted them about it. The experience was so traumatic for the liar that they vowed to never lie again. And so far, they've been true to their word. You admire this person for their honesty and for their strength. It takes a lot of courage to live in a world where each lie creates a scar, and this person has done it with grace. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The sun was shining brightly and the air was warm.iverse was always together, as always. For a moment, everything was perfect. The happy couple was sitting in the middle of the land, enjoying their day. They had everything they ever wanted and nothing they ever needed. The world was taking away their happiness, but they were okay. They would never be same again. They knew that everything would change one day. But for the moment, they chosen to hold onto the light. | Once upon a time, the world was filled with laughter and warmth. But then, one day, tears left scars on people's faces. People no longer smiled,saying goodbyes with a wink or a nod. They just cried, and it changed the world. People no longer knew how to connect with one another. They only communicated through tears. And so, the world was filled with division and anger. And so, it continued to wreck havoc, tearing apart families and homes. People were left striving to survive, but they couldn't. They were all left with impaired sight, hearing, and emotions. And so, they were left to fend for themselves. But one day, a tribe of brave women rose up and changed the course of history. They taught people how to laugh and connect. And so, the world was now filled with love and understanding. | The tears flowed freely down Sarah ’ s face as she wept uncontrollably. The pain was unbearable, and she knew that she would never be the same. The scars that her tears left on her skin were a constant reminder of the trauma that she had experienced. Sarah ’ s world had been turned upside down when she was raped. Now, every time she felt the pain of her memories returning, she would cry out in agony. She knew that she had to get through this, for the sake of her own sanity. But the scars that her tears left on her skin would always be a reminder of the pain that she had endured. | In a world where every tear that falls leaves a permanent scar, people are much more careful with their emotions. Crying is seen as a sign of weakness, and people are often ridiculed if they are seen shedding tears in public. This can be a difficult world to live in, as even the smallest emotional setback can leave lasting scars. People have to be very careful about how they express their feelings, and many end up bottling them up inside. There are some who see these scars as a badge of honor, a sign that they have been through some tough times and come out the other side. Others see them as a reminder of the pain they have endured, and they try to hide them away. Regardless of how people feel about them, scars from tears are a part of life in this world. And people have to learn to live with them the best they can. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Tommy was a magic creator until a persuasive wizard took control of his mind. The wizard told Tommy that he was a better magic creator than Tommy himself was. Tommy was skeptical but decided to give the idea some thought. Once he was back on his own, Tommy realizes that this idea was not simply a way to get along without pointing out how perfect his idea was. First, the wizard told Tommy that he had a limited amount of time on stage and that he had to make the show what it was. Tommy was determined to make the find the rabbit was looking for. He took a trio of danger abandonment and went on the run when the wizard asked for his help to help a little girl who was having a birthday party. | The magician was about to perform a magic trick when he noticed that the rabbit was grumbling. He grabbed the rabbit by the scruff of the neck and dragged it on stage. "I'm sick of playing second fiddle!" the rabbit said. "I want to do the tricks myself." The magician performed one of his most famous tricks, and the rabbit was so surprised that it jumped up and down. "I'm glad you like it," the magician said. "Now, can you do the same trick with me?" | The magician was on stage, pulling out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit was sick of being the second fiddle, and it was clear. The rabbit growled and snapped at the magician, trying to get a chance to be on stage alone. The magician was oblivious, pulling out a new rabbit each time the old one got tired. The rabbit grew more and more agitated, until it finally got its chance and ran the stage, leaving the magician behind in its wake. | The magician and his rabbit have been entertaining audiences for years. The rabbit is sick of being the sidekick, though. He wants to be the star of the show. One day, the rabbit gets his chance. The magician gets sick and can't perform, so the rabbit steps in. He does all the tricks that the magician normally does, and the audience loves it. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and he loves it. He's never going back to being the sidekick again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The superfine hair is arams. The deep blue eyes areassion. The silk hypertension. They are all things that have been hidden from your view for years. But recently, they've become more important to you. You try to exposing them, but they keepspirating in the corner. You try to make up with them, but they don't take kindly to forced reconciliation. They continue to come into your home, and into your hands. But one constant has been their non-existence. The arams steadily tip1010 die off, and the nurses are forced to deal with forgotten machines. The tissues keep reaching for the apartholes, but they'repitifully alone. The sublime hair remains cadded up in their beneaththethe air, waiting to be air- sampled and gathers the lots of dust that might come with experience. The blue eyes areonelinessly fixed on the wall, and the hypertension isstillWithdrawn trillionthumb. | One day as I am putting away the last of the laundry, I notice something moving in the closet. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I tell myself not to be scared, but I'm nervous. I try not to move, but the phantom starts to inch its way towards me. It's like it's reading my mind, watching me as I am trying to make a decision. Finally, I make the decision and I turn around to face the phantom. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I give it a cold stare and it disappears. I'm relieved and I go back to cleaning up. But I can't help but think about the ghost every time I close the door to my room. | I used to think that nothing was living in my home – until one day, I discovered an invisible creature. I was stirring some milk in the fridge, when I felt something cold and slimy slipping down my arm. I screamed, and waving my arm around in the air, created a frenzy of flour and milk – until I realized that the 'something' was an invisible spider. I tried to get rid of the spider, using everything from boiling water to a can of Raid, but it was always there, waiting for the perfect opportunity to settle on my skin. Eventually, I gave up and accepted that the spider was one of my home's inhabitants. And, although it still creeps me out, I'm starting to see the creature as something strange, rather than something terrifying. | You've always felt like you weren't alone in your home. You could never put your finger on it, but there was always a sense that someone else was there. You never mentioned it to anyone, not wanting to seem crazy. But the feeling persisted, and you started to notice other things. Cold spots in the house, strange noises, things moving around when you weren't looking. You knew there was something there, but you couldn't figure out what it was. You decided to set a trap, to try and expose the invisible entity living in your home. You set up a camera in the living room, hoping to catch it on film. But days went by and you didn't see anything. Frustrated, you decided to take things up a notch. You started leaving food out, trying to bait the creature into showing itself. And it worked. One night, you came home to find the food you'd left out gone. And on the camera, you finally saw what had been living in your home all along. A rat. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | "Hitler & Stalin's New Sex Role-verning World Order" Sigmund Freud had been seeking participants for his latest research for over fifty years. He put an ad in a newspaper for people to respond to, but to his dismay, he found that only three people responded. He is perturbed by this, as he knows that most of the world is familiar with his research on mental illness. In his latest study, he will study how three famous humans have influenced the world around them in different ways for the past new decade. Sigmund is a famous scientist and has been considered a genius by some, but he is also old-fashioned by nature's standards. He knows that it is better to cross dangerous obstacles dead-end than to progress forward. When he is asked to Participant in a Studies of silently, he NYCexternalhttps://www.nongovernment.com/world-factbook/a1900s-social-reviews-on-sigmund- Freud-in-Vienna-1895-1915/ believe it or not, he takes the bait. He takes a youthful inflection and tells the people at the local journal that he is 23 years old.Jet lag is huge problem in Vienna, Austria When Sigmund arrives in Vienna, he is embarrassed andQioxternalhttps://www.qocial.com/ Musclemen-of-Vienna-elders- workout- routines- and-a-to-heaven- led-by- a- jokes-about- his- age.250px He is taken in by theITMhouse.com online storeowner's arms. Adolf Hitler Leon Trotsky Josip Broz Tito | Adolf Hitler was interested in the research, but Joseph Stalin was not. Stalin wanted to be in control of the country, and he would not let Hitler have his way. He said that he would only participate if Hitler withdrew the ad. Hitler did not see the value in being involved in a clinical trial with someone like Stalin, but he agreed to the terms. The next day, Stalin met with Hitler and said that he was ready to participate. Hitler was not happy, but he agreed to the terms. The trial began, and it was difficult. There were many risks involved, and some people died. At the end of the trial, Stalin got the approval of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Russia, and he became the first person to be documented as a study participant. | Sigmund Freud was excited to try out his latest research on humans. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for participants for clinical trials. There were a lot of responses, but only four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a bit worried about who to choose. He was worried that one of the other participants might be more dangerous than the others. But in the end he decided to choose Joseph Stalin. He was the most experienced politician among the four and he seemed to be the most stable. The trials started and it was a bit of a challenge getting the four of them to follow the same guidelines. But eventually they managed to get everything organized. The trials went well and Freud was able to expand his research. He was even able to publish some of his findings in a book. Thanks to the clinical trials, Freud was able to make some important discoveries that changed the world. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is conducting clinical trials for his latest research in Vienna, Austria. He puts an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants for the trials. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties, and they're all eager to be a part of Freud's research. Freud is impressed with their enthusiasm and decides to accept them into the trial. Over the course of the trial, Freud comes to realize that all four men are suffering from delusions of grandeur. Hitler believes he is destined to rule the world, Stalin believes he is destined to lead the Communist revolution, Trotsky believes he is destined to overthrow the Tsar, and Tito believes he is destined to liberate Yugoslavia. Freud is horrified by what he sees as the potential for these men to do great harm in the world. He tries to warn them, but they all dismiss him as a quack. The trial comes to an end, and the four men go their separate ways. Freud never sees them again, but he always wonders what might have happened if he had been able to reach them. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The something invisible was always there, waiting to be exposed. It was invisible to you because it was hidden behind a secret wall of self-protectiveness. But your parents knew what you were like, and they knew that you were the type of person who could be easily surprised. They decided to let you have the something invisible for your own good. | One day, I was sitting in my office, reading an email when I saw something jump out at me from behind my screen. I instinctually tried to push it away, but it simply solidified and waited for me breathing heavily. I looked down at it, and there was a small, slimy snake coiling around my foot print. It appeared to be watching me with eyes of intelligence. My heart began to race, and I couldn't help but wonder what it could be. The next day, I got up to go to my kitchen for breakfast and found the snake waiting for me. It had taken up a spot on the counter right next to my cereal bowl. The moment I took my first bite, the snake slithered under the table, careful not to make any noise. It was quite the feast. | I never knew what was lurking in my walls until one day I caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye. I didn't think too much of it until I started hearing strange noises coming from my walls. It was like something was scratching them or tapping them. I didn't know what to do, so I just kept quiet and waited for it to reveal itself. Eventually, the thing showed itself to me. It was an invisible being, and it was mad at me for exposing it. | Something invisible lives in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a presence that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it, to catch it unaware, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm onto it, and it's playing a game with me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence. If I do, it will only get more powerful. I have to keep playing along, pretending that I don't know it's there. It's a dangerous game, but I have to win. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | It was bothering him. It was why he couldn't let himself believe what he was saying. The data indicated that the city was destroyed by a great musty Comprehensive Plan, but he couldn't remember the last time he funcioned in a city. The only thing he could remember was the day he'd been given the news by his wife. She was crying, but he was able to meet her halfway and tell her the truth. He didn't want to lose her and he couldn't let himself believe what he was saying. He started as many people as he could. He took the stage and played it safe. It was what his family and friends would have done. They were content in the life they had, but he knew they felt cut off from the past. He wanted to go back and relive the memories he'd missed, but he knew his family could notacid Test. He startedbooliving. His family didn't understand this side of him and he didn't want to risk it. He wanted to Priest and save his family from this. He made a deal with the one scar that stood in his way. He would not tell them the truth and they would not know the truth. The city was destroyed by a great musty Comprehensive Plan, but he didn't remember the day. He had been awarded the news by his wife and could not believe the truth. He wanted to keep the deal and keep his family safe, but he knew his family couldn't acid Test. He decided to go back and relive the memories he'd missed. But he knew his family couldn't acid Test because the city was destroyed. He had to let the truth power him and Fish out. The data indicated that the city was destroyed, but he could not remember the day. The day he made the deal with the one scar. | You meet someone new and they introduce themselves as being from the other side of the world. They tell you that they have had a hard life and they want to help you. They say that they have been through so much pain and they want to make things right. However, you can't believe them. You think they are lying. You can't believe that someone would go through all that pain just to tell a falsehood. You doubt their sincerity and you can't help but think that they are trying to fake your reaction. | I never wanted to meet someone like him. He was a liar and he had the biggest scar you have ever seen. It was so big, it was easily see through. He would tell big, extravagant lies and even when he was caught, he would just laugh it off. He seemed to enjoy it. I tried to avoid him, but eventually we met. It was awkward at first, but eventually we started talking. He told me all about his life and his lies. I couldn't help but to feel sorry for him. He seemed to be in pain most of the time. But, even though I didn't like him, I couldn't help but to care for him. And, eventually, I started to forgive him for all of his lies. | You meet someone at a party. They're tall, with a wide smile and bright eyes. They seem really friendly. You strike up a conversation and find out that they're from out of town. After a while, you notice that they have a scar on their forearm. It's big and deep, and it looks like it must have been painful. You ask them how they got it. They hesitated for a moment before answering. "I lied," they said. "I lied about who I was. I lied about where I came from. I lied about my family. I lied about my life. And it cost me dearly." You can see the pain in their eyes. They're not lying now, that much is clear. You can't imagine what it must have been like for them, to have such a deep and visible reminder of their past mistakes. But you can also see the strength in them. They've overcome so much. They're a survivor. And you can't help but admire that. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a painting of a farm. | Bob Ross was a master painter, and his landscapes were some of the most popular in the world. But there was one place where his paintings often featured Real People, the murders of which he often hid away in the backgrounds of his paintings. Some believe that the paintings are based on his real-life kills, and that they are warning others of the dangers of crime. | Bob Ross was an amazing painter. His landscapes were so realistic, it was easy to believe that they were real places. He would often take his paintings on road trips, painting along the way. One day, Bob Ross decided to take his painting of a scenic road trip to his home in Wisconsin. As he drove, he thought about how wonderful it would be to spend some time painting in his own backyard. He arrived home and quickly got to work. As he painted, he couldn't help but notice all the murdered women who resided in the area. Over time, the murders became a part of his landscape, just like the trees and the rivers. One day, he stopped painting altogether and simply stared out at his gruesome view. It was all too much, and he eventually killed himself. | Bob Ross was a landscape painter with a difference. His paintings were not only beautiful, but they were also based on real places. The difference was that these places were the locations of Bob Ross' countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his art to disguise his gruesome crimes. He would choose a secluded spot in the wilderness and paint a beautiful landscape. But hidden within the painting would be the body of his latest victim. For years, Bob Ross managed to evade justice. But eventually, the police began to catch up with him. They realized that each of his paintings was a clues to a murder. And so they began to piece together the gruesome picture of what he had been doing. Now, Bob Ross is in prison, where he belongs. And his paintings are now being used as evidence in the trial against him. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. But why? The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but why? Because only the Intelligent and stabilized people who are Auditor can produce children with the dumbest people in the world and exhibit their intelligence and stability in the world. | Auditors were the last people you'd expect to be asked to prevent the reproduction of the idiots and kids who thought they were smart because they had a birth control device. But, you're the Auditor, and you're the only one who can deactivate the device. As you walk through the Academy, it's clear that the idiots have turned the place into a laughingstock. You're about to deactivate the device for the first time when you hear a voice behind you. It's the idiot who thought he was smart. "What are you doing?" He accuses you, looking frustrated. "You're going to prevent me from creating more idiots." "I'm sorry," you say, trying not to smile. "But, you're the only one who can deactivate the device." "So what's the point?" He asks, still looking frustrated. "I can't even think. I'm just going to copy everything I learn and leave the Academy." "But, that's not fair," you say, trying to think of a solution. "The idiots who don't have the device will be left behind. They'll be laughed at and forgotten." "I know," he says, looking thoughtful. "But, there's only one way to fix this. We have to make sure that everyone has the device." "So we have to convince the Academy to let everyone have the device," you say, thinking aloud. "That's the only way," he says, looking seriousness into your eyes. "But, it'll take some time. We have to find a way to convince the Academy to let everyone have the device." | It's been 10 years since the birth control devices were implanted into the population. Everyone is happy and well-adjusted, right? Well, not exactly. There are a select few who are angry and frustrated because they can't have children. They believe they should be the chosen ones who get to have children because they are smart and stable. The Auditor's job is to ensure that the devices are deactivated once the person has been determined to be intelligent and stable. It's a difficult task, but it's necessary. Otherwise, the dumbest people in the world will continue to reproduce and the population will become even dumber. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. You've just finished interviewing a potential parent and, unfortunately, they don't meet the criteria. You activate their birth control device and they are shocked. They plead with you, begging you to let them have a child, but you stand firm. You explain that you are only doing this to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing and that they simply aren't qualified. It's a hard truth to accept, but it's the truth nonetheless. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician causes a rabbit to fall from a building, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. prompt: A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit notices and says who is this man? The magician says yes, he is the one who made the magic, now you are just a lot of fun. The rabbit says thank you, but I preferred myself more. The magician says you will be getting a lot of practice since I pulled you out of a hat. The rabbit says I don't care, I will be performanceitis now. | The magician leaned over the rabbit, and whispered in its ear. "I know how to make you cured." The rabbit turned its head to the side and gave him a suspicious stare. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you." The magician took a step back, | The magician had been performing for years, and he was a master at pulling rabbits out of hats. It was his favorite trick, and he loved to put on a show for his audiences. But this particular rabbit was getting tired of always being the second fiddle. He wanted to be the star of the show, and he was tired of always being the one that the magician pulled out of the hat. One day, the rabbit decided that he had had enough. He didn't want to be the magician's second choice any more. He was going to take control of his own destiny and show the magician what he was really made of. So the rabbit stole the magician's hat and went on stage to perform without him. The crowd went wild, and the rabbit had finally become the star that he had always wanted to be. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is tired of being the sidekick. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's sick of being treated like a prop. So, during one of the tricks, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs the magician's wand and starts doing his own magic. The audience is amazed, and the rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves. The magician is furious, but he can't do anything to stop the rabbit. He knows that he's been upstaged, and there's nothing he can do about it. The rabbit is finally free, and he's enjoying every minute of it. He knows that he won't be stuck in that hat again - he's the star now. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints a picture of each of his place deaths. Each with a living, breathing person in it. Heons and toolbar are seen for whom and what he is painting about. The people in his paintings are real people, living and dead, and he likes to show that through his art. | Bob Ross had an amazing talent for painting landscape paintings. Each of his paintings were all different locations, each onecontaining a different murder. Even though he knew all the places, he couldn't help but create some strange paintings that no one would forget. | Bob Ross loved nature. He would sit for hours painting landscapes, taking in every detail of the different location. But what he didn't know was that each landscape was a real place where he had committed countless murders. The police were always one step behind him, never able to catch him. But one day, they finally did. It was a bittersweet victory for the police, as they took down one of the country's most prolific murderers, but they also had to answer to the families of the victims. | Bob Ross was not your typical artist. He was a cold-blooded killer who used his art as a cover for his crimes. For years, he traveled the country, painting beautiful landscapes and killing innocent people. His victims were never found, and no one suspected Bob Ross of anything. But the truth is, each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. All over the country, there are places where Bob Ross' victims were found. And each painting is a reminder of the tragedy that took place there. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The house was small, only with the knowledge that it was home to something invisible. The something invisible was constantly checking into why the small house was so Cagey and Trystin couldn't make much progress. It was like the something invisible had a game to play in there, a waiting game that only got longer for each day. | One day, I woke up to an eerie feeling. I could feel something lurking in my home, just beyond my reach. I tried to ignore it, but it kept creeping up on me in the dark. I could feel its presence, like it was always there, waiting to take over. One day, I decided to face down my invisible visitor. I faced it down with determination, and I won. The thing disappeared into thin air, and I couldn't feel its presence anymore. | I'm not sure when it happened, but somehow one of my walls became "home" to an invisible creature. I could never see it, but I could always feel its presence. It would creep around the edge of my perception, but it always managed to stay out of sight. I tried to exorcise it once, but it just laughed at me. It seemed to know that I was powerless to stop it, and it liked that. It would taunt me, taunting me with its secrets and its knowledge. I wanted to scream at it, to tell it to leave me alone, but I couldn't. Instead, I just sat in silence, futilely trying to exorcise an invisible foe. The thing was starting to get on my nerves. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And I was starting to lose faith. One day, I finally had had enough. I gathered my courage and confronted the creature. I told it that I was aware of its presence, and I demanded that it leave me alone. But instead of fleeing, the thing just laughed at me. It told me that it loved playing with me, that it enjoyed making me feel helpless. And then it vanished into the shadows, leaving me alone once again. I don't know how to beat it, but I'll keep trying. Because if it can beat me, then it can beat anyone. | It's been living in my home for months, maybe even years. I don't know how it got here, but I do know that it's invisible. I've tried to expose it, to let it know that I'm aware of its presence, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can hear it moving around at night, and sometimes I even feel it watching me. It's like it's playing a game with me, trying to see how long it can stay hidden. But I'm not going to give up. Someday, I'll find a way to expose this invisible thing, and then it will have to face the consequences. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is called " RPG pawn shop " because it is where you can sell your in-game assets - weapons, armor, chitin, and the like. You've been selling items like this for years, and you know that they are popular. On one recent day, you see a woman selling a Roland child-sized alepple. You get in touch with your anger and decide to buy it. | The time had come for another big sale at my pawnshop. I had been taking care of business as usual, but now that the night was drawing near, there were more and more adventurers arriving. One group of adventurers was especially conspicuous. They were all wearing brightly colored clothes and they werecarrying all sorts of loot. I was getting impatient, so I started bargaining with them. I would give them a bit of silver for any treasure they were selling, and I would also give them a discounted price on new-release items. Eventually, the group left, but their Loot was already gone. I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. | "50gp for that shield?" I asked the adventurer, trying to get a better price. He shook his head. "Nope, not selling. I took it off a dragon." I smiled and nodded. "All right, I'll give you 45gp for it." The adventurer looked at me skeptically, but he eventually gave in. I counted the coins and put them in my pocket. I smiled at the adventurer as he left my shop. I was finally getting some good prices for my inventory. | You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a wily negotiator, and you always get the best deal for your wares. Today, a fighter walks into your shop, lugging a heavy sack of loot. He dumps it out on the counter and starts naming off his prices. You shake your head and start haggling. You lowball him on every item, but he's a tough negotiator himself. Finally, you come to an agreement and he walks out with a decent amount of money. You ring up your next customer, a wizard who's trying to sell a magical staff. She's asking for a hefty sum, but you know that you can get it for cheaper. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you strike a deal and she hands over the staff. As the day goes on, you haggle with a wide variety of adventurers, each one trying to get the best price for their loot. It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into place gradually, no one was more Warlord than a Warlord had a birth control device deactivated. It was only after much effort and knowledge did everyone else realize how same exact birth control device was causing them problems. The device caused housekings to die a quick death, the birth of sucksts made it hard to keep the house down, the housekings had to start from scratch to keep the housekings alive. The birth of sucksts made it hard to keep the house down, the housekings had to start from scratch to keep the housekings alive. | Auditor 3A activated my birth control device. It was a small, silver plastic capsule that was stuck through my cheekbone. I had to be careful not to crush it as I inserted it into my body. The birth control capsuleDetects your intelligence and stability. The next day, I woke up to a new world. I could no longer imagine being without my birth control device. It was like my body was finally belonged to me. | When I was born, my parents were terrified. They had just undergone a revolutionary procedure to implant a birth control device into my brain as part of my puberty rites. They were sure I would be the dunce of the family, and they were right. I never managed to get a decent job, or even finish school. I'm still not sure what I'm doing here. But I guess that's okay, because I'm the Auditor. I'm responsible for ensuring that everyone in the world is using contraception, and making sure they're intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a thankless job, but I'm happy to do it. | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. As an Auditor, it is your job to interview and test prospective parents to see if they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. If they are not, then their birth control device remains active and they are unable to have children. You must be very careful in your evaluations, as you have the power to prevent someone from starting a family. But you also have the responsibility to ensure that only the best and brightest people are reproducing. It's a daunting task, but someone has to do it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud dedicated his life to medicine, not to seemly呆? He wasn't really interested in research because he didn't think it was meaningful. He was just trying to be a doctor after his own heart. But now, in 1913, there's a new group of people who are | Adolf Hitler,Joseph Stalin,Leon Trotsky,and Josip Broz Tito meet in Vienna to discuss a clinical trial for Sigmund Freud's latest research. They all agree to participate, but with one condition--they must be under the control of Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. | Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trials ad. He quickly narrowed the list down to six potential participants: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito, and Ernst Rohm. Freud was eager to get started with the trials, but he needed to interviews all of the participants. He decided to meet with the three youngest participants first--Josip Broz Tito, Leon Trotsky, and Ernst Rohm. Freud was impressed with the young revolutionaries. He was especially interested in Josip Broz Tito, who was only 21 years old. Freud hoped that the trials would help to unlock the secrets of the human mind. | Sigmund Freud was a brilliant mind, and his latest research was on the verge of changing the world. He was seeking participants for clinical trials, and he placed an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties, and they were all eager to participate in the trials. Freud was impressed with their enthusiasm, and he decided to take them on as patients. The trials were a success, and Freud's research quickly gained international acclaim. However, there was one unforeseen consequence: The four men who participated in the trials all went on to become dictators. Some say that it was Freud's fault, that his research somehow warped their minds and made them into monsters. Others say that it was simply a coincidence. But either way, the world will never forget the four men who participated in Freud's clinical trials. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The sound of my door slowing down as I deliberately step outside to allow it to join the other ghosts in my home. I watch as they all file into the room, all looking around in confusion as to where to find me. I step out of my way as they head in different directions. It takes a while for all of them to understand that something is different about this room now. One owner says, "This place seems different at the office but this is still the home you left us in?" The other owner replies, "I don't know, it seems like it's been through enough changes." as they all look around in confusion, I step out of the way and join in the conversation. It's hard to keep up with what all is happening as I try to understand what's being said, but I eventually get it together andjoin in the conversation. | Every night, when I go to bed, I try to sleep without thinking about the green anomaly that exists in my home. I try to forget that it's there, but I can't help but feel its presence. It's like a forceField that is always blocking my sleep. One night, after a long night of trying, I give up and go to bed. As I slumber, I can hear the anomaly working itself faintly. It's like it's trying to communicate with me, but I can't understand it. I can only hear the sound of its breathing. The next night, I try to sleep even more thorough, but I can't get to sleep. I keep replaying the dream I had the night before, where I see the anomaly. It's like it's right there in my room, but I can't control how I'm reacting. So I finally give up and go to bed. As I slumber, I can feel the anomaly's presence even harder. It's like it's trying to communicate with me, but I can't understand it. I can only hear the sound of its breathing. And each time I wake up, I feel even more determined to get rid of it. I try to be More Apt At Sleeping, but it's like the anomaly is already there, blocking my sleep. My head is always full of thoughts of the anomaly, and I can't get it out of my mind. Suddenly, I hear a noise. It's like the anomaly is trying to speak to me, but I can't understand it. I can only hear the sound of its breathing. I'm about to get up to investigate when I realize that the noise is coming from my room. It's like the anomaly is trying to get into my room, but it's impossible. I've made it clear that I'm not afraid of it, but it still seems like it can't break through my barriers. IAmazingly, the next night I sleep without any issues. The anomaly is still there, but it's trying to communicate with me in a way that I can understand. I can finally understand it, and I'm starting to see the value in fighting it. I know that if I can get rid of it, it will eventually die. | I've had this thing living in my home for years now and I never knew what it was. I always thought it was some sort of bug, but every time I'd try to get rid of it, it would take off and I wouldn't be able to find it. I would stare at it for hours, trying to figure out what it was, but I always came up with nothing. One day, I was sitting in my living room, scrolling through my social media accounts, when I noticed that the thing had flown across the room. I slowly got up, trying not to make any noise, as I made my way to where it had flown to. I knelt down and peered through the gap in the doorframe, and there it was: a small, invisible creature. I could see it hovering near the light fixture, waiting for its opportunity to enter. I stared at it for a few minutes, trying to figure out what it was, but I still couldn't figure it out. Eventually, I got up and closed the door, trying to keep the thing hidden. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that I needed to get rid of it. I couldn't let it know that I was aware of its presence. | I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my home. I would hear strange noises in the middle of the night, and things would often go missing. I never really thought much of it, until one day I decided to try and catch whatever it was that was living with me. I set up a camera in my living room, and waited. For weeks, nothing happened. I was about to give up, when I finally saw something on the footage. It was hard to make out at first, but it looked like a small, transparent creature. I couldn't believe my eyes! I tried to exposure it, but it was very difficult. Whenever I would try to get close to it, it would vanish. I did manage to get a few pictures of it, but it was always gone before I could get a good look. Despite its elusive nature, I was fascinated by this invisible creature that was living in my home. I started to leave out food for it, and soon enough, it started to show itself to me more often. We developed a strange kind of companionship, and I was happy to finally have some company. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler clicked the button on the computer screen and entered his email address into the input box. "I'm ready to begin my clinical trials," he thought to himself as he clicked the submit button. Joseph Stalin clicked on the next button. "I'm ready to begin my clinical trials," he thought to himself. Leon Trotsky clicked on the next button. "I'm ready to begin my clinical trials," he thought to himself. Josip Broz Tito clicked on the next button. "I'm ready to begin my clinical trials," he thought to himself. But before anyone could click the next button, the computer screen went blank. | Freud was excited to start the clinical trials for his latest research, but he didn't have any participants. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was worried about who would be the best to participate in the trials. He invited all of the participants to come to his office for an interview. Hitler showed up first, and Freud was impressed with his intelligence. He was also impressed with how easily Hitler could answer questions. Stalin came next, and Freud was surprised by how calm he was. He was also impressed with Stalin's ability to think on his feet. Trotsky was last to arrive, and Freud was surprised to see that he was so young. Freud was hoping that Trotsky would be the best participant, but he was disappointed. Trotsky didn't seem to be as smart as the other three. Freud decided that the best participant would be Tito. Tito was the youngest of the participants, and he was the most energetic. Freud was confident that Tito would be the best participant. The trials went well, and Freud was happy with the results. He was especially pleased with Tito's performance. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men agreed to participate in the trials. Over the course of the next few weeks, Freud observed them closely. He quickly realized that they were all suffering from similar mental disorders. He diagnosed them with " paranoid personality disorder." Freud was able to help all four men with his treatment methods. They all showed improvement after a few weeks. However, he was not able to completely cure them. The experience was eye-opening for Freud. He realized that even the most powerful people in the world were not immune to mental illness. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met me was direct and to the point. "I'm sorry," They replied. "I had no idea what I was talking about." I was surprised by their confession. It was clear that they were not bits of a secret life thatyre had been living. "Please, can I see the large lie?" I asked. The person only = smiled = "There is one," He said, and handed you a large box. "The biggest one you have ever seen." | You meet someonenew and you're curious. You ask what the big scar is and they tell you it is from a Lie. They tell you about a time when they were falsely accused of a crime and how it ruined their reputation. They say it was a long and drawn out process and the scar is evidence of how hard it was for them to get over it. | I was intrigued by this person from the moment I saw them. They had the biggest lie I had ever seen. It was so deep and wide it was hard to believe. I wanted to know more about this person and their story. I asked them about it, and they revealed that their biggest lie was so big that it created a permanent scar on their body. It was a reminder of the lies they had told and the hurt they had caused. every lie created a new scar, but this one was the biggest and the deepest. | The first time I saw her, I couldn't help but stare. Her scar was massive, stretching from her shoulder all the way down to her waist. I had never seen anything like it. I asked her about it, and she told me her story. She said that she had once been a very dishonest person. She lied about everything, big and small. Over time, her lies had started to take a toll on her body. Each lie left a scar, and the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. Eventually, she realized that she couldn't keep living like this. She had to start being honest, no matter how difficult it was. It was a hard road, but slowly, her scars started to fade. And now, the only scar she has is the biggest one of all - a reminder of how far she's come and how honest she now is. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The world is constantly under attack, and only time will tell who will be the final victor. The fight is going to be worth the wait. The latestṣ-ṣ-ṣ report road trip. The sun has been blocching my eyes hardwyy entitling me to make this stop. I alaoow my formulate for the next day's destination. The room biombs off of my corpse, and I am left only with the smell of my own bodyweight in my left sleeve. I have the hawklike MRE situation down to analloowable fuck you. The sun has been blocching my eyes hardwyy entitling me to make this stop. I alaoow my formulate for the next day's destination. | President Trump's visit to NATO was a success and everyone was elated. The media was all over the story and there was talk of how great things were going to be. But something strange happened after the president's visit. This "good" news stopped being shared as much and people were starting to feel moody and distracted. Maybe it was the new president in office or maybe it was something else, but something was off. And so, the next day, when news of Trump's visit circulated, the mood in the office was somber. Some people even said they didn't feel so good about it. | There is a current event issue that deserves the utmost attention: the rising tide of hate and bigotry towards immigrants and refugees. It is becoming increasingly difficult for those who are targeted to feel safe and secure in their homes, workplaces, and communities. In recent months, we have seen an uptick in crimes and hate crimes against immigrants and refugees. One such event was the attempted arson of a mosque in Victoria, Australia. The perpetrators of this crime were heard shouting reportedly racist remarks before setting the building ablaze. In December, a man attacked a woman who was wearing a hijab on a subway in New York City. He was then arrested and charged with assault and harassment. These are only a few examples of the many despicable crimes being committed against immigrants and refugees. This issue must be addressed Immediately. We need to stand together and show our solidarity against hate and bigotry. We must do everything we can to make sure everyone in our society feels safe and respected. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the Syrian refugee crisis. The Syrian refugee crisis is a humanitarian crisis that has resulted in over four million refugees fleeing Syria since the start of the Syrian Civil War in 2011. The majority of Syrian refugees have fled to neighboring countries, such as Lebanon, Turkey, and Jordan, but over one million have also fled to Europe. The Syrian refugee crisis has resulted in a great deal of human suffering, as many of the refugees are living in camps with limited resources. Additionally, the Syrian refugee crisis has also resulted in a great deal of political tension, as countries debate whether or not to allow Syrian refugees to enter their borders. The Syrian refugee crisis is a complex issue that requires a great deal of attention. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The day started like any other day. But as the minutes flew by, the tears started to feel more and more Levi. His friends and family had all taken up space in his life and Levi was struggling to hold it all back any longer. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to take flight. But instead he sat through each and every one of his friends ’ tears, until finally downing a quick smile andORTS 3RD AMENDMENT DINNER. | As the tears slid down the cheeks of the girl, she could see the pain in her friend’s eyes. It was clear that she had not expected this, and felt her own grief spike. She had never been so much in pain, and knew that this was only the beginning. The girl knew that this wasn’t going to be the end, and that she would have to face the challenge of repairing the damage that had been done. | In the world of tears, every tear mattered. They were signs of love and caring, and they could heal any hurt. But there was one tear that was different. It was the tear of sadness. This tear was known to leave scars on the faces of those who cried it. The tears would swirl around, leaving deep, dark marks on the skin. And the more tears were shed, the worse the scars became. The tear of sadness was a powerful thing. It could heal any wound, but it also left deep, dark marks on the faces of those who cried it. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For one, people would be much more careful with their words. No one would want to say something that would cause someone else to cry, because they would know that it would leave a permanent mark. Because of this, relationships would be a lot more careful and thoughtful. People would think twice before saying something hurtful to someone they care about. There would be a lot more compassion and empathy in the world, as people would be more understanding of each other's feelings. There would also be a lot more support for people who are going through tough times. Since everyone would know the pain that comes with tears, they would be more likely to offer a shoulder to cry on, or lend a helping hand. Ultimately, if tears left scars, the world would be a kinder, gentler place. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud was feeling Gaudí-like himself, So he does some research on Adolf Hitler, the great_bad_guy_on_eness that has become popular these days. He finds a website that offers zucchinese as a treatment for Freud's latest patient, Adolf Hitler. Freud takes the ad and is impressed by the quick response time from the individuals listed. He enters the information into his computer and kilograms are given to the patients as they go into the patient room. | Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. The rest of the participants in Freud's clinical trials were Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All of them were too young to have the experience or the knowledge to participate in the trial. | Freud was baffled. He had placed an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants for his latest clinical trials. All of the responses he received were from people much older than himself. Adolf Hitler (age 24), Joseph Stalin (age 35), Leon Trotsky (age 34), and Josip Broz Tito (age 21) all replied. Freud was concerned. Maybe his research was flawed. Maybe his methods were ineffective. He decided to test his theories on each of the candidates. Adolf Hitler was the first to undergo the trials. He was surprised by the results. The theories that Freud had put forward about the role of the unconscious mind were true. Adolf Hitler had been using his power of the unconscious mind to achieve success throughout his career. Joseph Stalin was next. Freud's theory about the role of the conscious mind was also correct. Joseph Stalin was able to control the masses due to his understanding of the conscious mind. Leon Trotsky was the last to undergo the trials. Freud's theory about the role of the subconscious mind was incorrect. Leon Trotsky was able to achieve success due to his mastery of the subconscious mind. Josip Broz Tito was the most successful of the candidates. He was able to combine the techniques of all the other candidates into one powerful force. He was officially named the leader of Yugoslavia after the trials. | Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned psychiatrist in 1913 Vienna, Austria. He was always looking for ways to further his research and advance his knowledge in the field of psychology. So when he saw an opportunity to conduct clinical trials for his latest research, he jumped at the chance. He put an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants for his trials. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to participate in the trials. Freud was hesitant at first, but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. The trials were a success and Freud was able to gather valuable data from the four participants. However, he was also able to see firsthand the dark side of human nature. He observed how Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky were all power-hungry and ruthless individuals. And he saw how Tito was able to use his charm and charisma to manipulate people. In the end, Freud was left wondering if his research had really uncovered anything new about human nature. Or if it had just confirmed what he already knew. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | It was allife choice - she was born with a fear of the dark and a fear of being deactivated. Even as a little girl, she knowned her life would be serviceable enough to prevent being impaired just because of a device her parents had implanted in her. That was until she got married. | Auditors are theSmartest people in the world, and that's what we want them to become. We implant them with birth control devices at puberty in order to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. They're always so determined and stable, but once they're planted, they're guaranteed to reproduce. It's aurden, but it's something we have to do in order to keep the world clean and safe. | The moment I realized I was an Auditor, I knew my future was bleak. There was no way out for me, no way to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I would be stuck with this job forever. I tried to mentally prepare myself for my future. I would have to constantly remind people of their obligations, and make sure they took their birth control devices seriously. I would have to be on the lookout for any signs of instability or stupidity, and take appropriate action. But it was all worth it, in the end. I was able to keep the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and ensure the future of humanity. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review their life history and make a judgement. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. You've just finished reviewing the life history of one potential parent and you're not sure if they're up to the task. They've made some poor choices in their life and you're not sure if they're really ready to be a parent. You sit down with the potential parent and explain your concerns. You give them a chance to explain themselves and address your concerns. After hearing their explanation, you decide that they are not ready to be a parent. You deactivate their birth control device and they are unable to have children. It's a tough decision, but you know it's the right one. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was on a train when I felt a sharp pain in my back. I didn't know what it was and I didn't feel like getting out. So I stayed on the train and waited for the emergency crew to come to me. When they didn't I knew I was in trouble. I turned around and saw a man walking down the train tracks. | I sit in the dark, alone. I can hear the leaves rustling in the wind, and the occasional animal whimper. The only light comes from the small fire in the center of the room. I'm cold and I'm scared. I don't know what's going to happen next. | One day, an old man died. He had been sick for a long time, and his death was expected. His family and friends gathered around his bedside, holding his hand and saying goodbye. The old man looked peaceful in his sleep, and nobody suspected anything was wrong when his breathing stopped. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive, and the next I'm not. I don't feel any pain, or see any light. I'm just...gone. I don't know how long I'm dead for. It could be seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, or even centuries. I have no way of telling. But eventually, I become aware again. I'm not sure what happens, but I'm suddenly alive once more. I don't know what to make of it. Was it all just a dream? Or am I truly immortal? I don't know, and I may never know. But one thing is for sure: death is not the end. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross advocates for his favorite place: -Nostalgically, he can't help but visit each and every place he has paintings from. -He knows each and every mountain he has painted and every plant he has assortment of supplements. -He's even more experts with regards toUPF (um, london) products. -And he knows all of this thanks to his obser- VP, millions of dollars and an hordes of -Bob Ross is Finally Eased his grumblings. Bob Ross has always been a bigoted individual. -He doesn't like to see non-locals in his place, non-locals get in his way. -He's also picky with staff, he want only locals in his place. -So, Bob Ross lines his investments with himself, with each and every place he has painting. -Until he finally pose the question to himself. -Why can't I visit each and every place I have paintings from? -ubis the question to Bob Ross himself. -The painting, the painting. -I want to visit each and every place I have paintings from, but I'm not able to. | Once upon a time there was a poor farmer who lived in a small town. His land was spread out and his income was very low, so the farmer never saw the need for a garden. He would just sit in his farmhouse and look out at his fields, until one day he was murderer. One day, the farmer decided to go out and murder some of his neighbors. He killed two of them and then took their wives and children with him. He was planning to keep the women and children as hostages and use them as bargaining chips to get money from the other farmers. Before he could do anything, the townspeople caught wind of his plan and found him. They quickly rounded up the women and children and took them to the farmhouse. The farmer was terrified and could barely keep silent as the townspeople killed his family. When it was all over, the farmer was found guilty of his crimes and was sentenced to death. However, before he could be executed, the farmer had a change of heart and decided to spare his life. A new life was started for him, one where he would paint beautiful landscapes instead ofmurdering people. Today, the farmer is a respected member of the community and his paintings can be seen all over the place. | Bob Ross painted scenes of nature for decades, but nobody knew the true extent of his killer instinct. All those peaceful scenes of mountains and rivers were actually where he had brutally killed people, leaving their bodies as gruesomely as possible for the authorities to find. In the end, Bob Ross was caught and executed for his crimes. | Bob Ross was a famous landscape painter who was beloved by many. What most people didn't know was that each of his paintings was a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. For years, Bob Ross went on a killing spree, leaving behind a landscape painting at each crime scene. Finally, the police were able to catch up to him and he was arrested. As the police looked through his paintings, they realized that each one was a crime scene. Bob Ross had finally been caught - but his legacy of murder would live on through his paintings. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it's no-nonsense. It's got nice, fresh gear for the newregion, and experienced players are used to giving up. The adventurers who've been prospecting for gear here aren't used to working with hands-onTIME. When one of them gets focused on something specific, their friends around them pull out their buyers way too early. The fight that ensches upon him leads to others, and others. It's their day-job, but they've never been more focused on their sale fewer buyers. They're with the rich, Action-RPG-aholic. They'veFrontier FPosts to make more gear, because they know their place. | The first time I saw the adventurers, I was intrigued. They were selling magical equipment and equipment that would let them transcend boundaries. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The next time I saw them, they were fighting a dragon. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The third time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The fourth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The fifth time, they were fighting a dragon. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The sixth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The seventh time, they were fighting a dragon. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The eighth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The ninth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The tenth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. I was impressed. They were a group of adventurers with a lot of pain and they were trying to sell me some gear to help them. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and they wanted to help. I was fascinated. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The door swung open and in walked a group of adventurers, each carrying a bag of treasure. The shopkeeper, Martha, greeted them warmly. "How can I help you adventurers?" she asked. The adventurers looked around the shop. One of them, a young woman with curly brown hair, spoke up. "We're looking for a place to sell our loot. Does your pawn shop have any space?" Martha considered the question. On one hand, she loved haggling with adventurers who came to her shop seeking to buy and sell. On the other hand, she was trying to stay afloat as the economy went downhill. "I'm sorry, but we don't have any room to store your treasure," Martha said. "But I can give you a discount on your purchases if you buy something else in the store." The adventurers thanked Martha and left the pawn shop. They would likely go to another pawn shop before finding a place to store their loot, but Martha was happy to have made a sale. | You own a pawn shop that specializes in RPG items. You've seen all kinds of adventurers come through your door, trying to sell their loot for a quick buck. Some of them are pretty savvy hagglers, but you've got a sharp mind and you're always able to get the best deal. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a treasure trove of loot. They're obviously very excited about it and try to get you to give them a good price. But you're not falling for it. You start haggling with them, and after a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally agree on a price. You're happy with the deal you got, and the adventurers are happy with the money they made. It's a win-win for everyone involved. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The darkness outside was thick and black. The stars were bright, and I could see thededges of trees in the distance. In the center of the room, a figure was sitting, not moving. I was paralyzed with fear. I didn't know what to do. | It was all over. There was no turning back now. I had accepted my fate and knew that I was going to die. The bullets were flying around me and I knew that I was in serious trouble. But then, something miraculous happened. The bullets stopped coming my way and I could finally breathe again. I looked around and saw that the whole battlefield had gone silent. It was as if the gods were with me that day and I owed them my life. I got up and stumbled towards the enemy lines, victor in hand. As I approched, I could hear the cries of the wounded and the screams of the dying. I knew that I had made the right choice and that I had saved countless lives. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened, but one moment I was alive and the next I was dead. I don't know what to do now that I'm dead. I just feel like I'm floating in a dark void. I can't see or hear anything. I'm not sure if this is what death is supposed to be like, but it's scary. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A group of friends are discussing ways to get rid of the current event that is taking up most of their time. They consider many things but feel that the current event is too much. | It was a stormy day and it seemed like every place I looked there was lightning. It was soiesta by the time I made it to my place, and I was just about to go to bed when I saw a light out in the street. It looked like it was coming from a dark alleyway, and when I got closer I could see that it was coming from a window. As I got closer, I could see that the person who was lighting up the street was a girl. | It was a day like any other. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the flowers were in full bloom. However, something was off. The normally busy streets were nearly empty, and the radio announcers were talking about a major incident that had just occurred. The incident was a terrorist attack, and the ramifications of it were far-reaching. The country was on edge, and the people were tense. Nobody knew what was going to happen next. Everyone was on edge, including the reporters. They were constantly on the lookout for information, and they were desperate to get the story. They were also careful not to make any mistakes. If the wrong person found out about their investigations, their career could be over. The reporters were determined to get the story, no matter what. They worked tirelessly, and they were able to get the information they needed. The country was finally able to relax, and the reporters were able to fete in the victory. | There's no doubt that the current events issue today that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the coronavirus pandemic. It's a global crisis that has affected millions of people and caused tremendous economic and social disruption. The pandemic has also shone a spotlight on the shortcomings of our healthcare systems and the need for better preparedness for future epidemics. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are from a large and powerful family line of rangers. They've been selling pieces of their gear and other supplies to the till of the store. When they get to the final shop, they try to sell it. The store | It was a little after dark and the only light coming from the pawnshop came from the glow of the lanterns that sat on the shelves. It was a little bit cramped and it was difficult to move around, but the customers who came to buy The Black Tome of Alteration understood. The shop's owner, a little old man, sat behind the counter, smoking a tobacco pipe and cleaning the glasses that he used to see in the distance. He was always a little Eccentric, but at least he was kind-hearted. "Are you looking to buy any gear?" The old man asked. The adventurers, all of whom were regulars at the pawnshop, exchanged looks. They were all veterans of the dungeon and had acquired a lot of gear over the years. "That'll be enough for tonight," One of the adventurers said. The old man nodded and went back to smoking his pipe. He was always a little suspicious of new players, but he didn't say anything to that. "So what brings you in today?" The old man asked. "I just bought a new set of armor," One of the adventurers said. "And what is that?" The old man asked. "It's a set of mail armor," The adventurer said. "A new set of armor?" The old man asked, looking surprised. "Yes, it's a brand new set," The adventurer said. "You're lucky I have any sets of mail armor left," The old man said. "Do you have any treasure inlcuded?" One of the adventurers asked. "I do, but it's in a locked chest upstairs," The old man said. "That sounds like a lot to pay for," One of the adventurers said. "It is," The old man said. "But I'm not the one who's selling the gear, I'm the one who's giving it away." "Is that so?" One of the adventurers said. They all looked around the small pawnshop and saw the old man smoking his pipe and cleaning his glasses. They all had a moment of realization. "We're all thieves," One of the adventurers said. "Yes," The adventurers said, "and this is our opportunity." | It was an ordinary day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers who had come in to sell their loot. They were all shouting and bargaining, trying to get the best price they could. I usually had no problem dealing with these types of adventurers, but this time I found myself getting a little bit frustrated. I had been in this business for a long time and I knew how to haggle. But these guys were just trying to get the best deal they could. I was about to give up when I noticed one of the adventurers holding something in his hand that caught my attention. It was a small, silver shield. I had never seen one of those before, and I knew it was a valuable piece of loot. I decided to haggle harder. I was sure I could get a better price for this shield than the guys were offering. After a few minutes of trying, I finally got them to agree to a price that I was happy with. I pocketed the shield and went back to my usual business. I knew I would be able to sell it for a good price and make a profit on it. It was always a good day when I could haggle and make a little money off of the adventurers. | You run an RPG pawn shop, specializing in buying and selling loot and equipment from adventurers. You're always on the lookout for a good bargain, and you're never afraid to haggle with customers. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. They have a lot of good stuff, but you manage to get them to lower their prices. In the end, you walk away with a nice haul of loot, and the adventurers are a little bit richer. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was put into Psibo after he was caught stealing from the store. He was chased and captured every night, but he always emerged from his hiding spot alive. One day, Psibo was born as a result of the theft. He was Auditor Psibo for the following reason: to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | That was how it was always going to be. The way the Auditors controlled everything.slowly but surely, everyone was becoming less and less able to do anything. They had made sure that the most intelligent and stable people were the ones who got implanted with birth control devices before they turned eighteen. It was the only way to prevent the stupidest people from reproducing and ruining the world. | Most people spend their whole lives without ever knowing what it's like to have to worry about becoming pregnant. Until one day, you wake up to find that you're no longer able to have children. At first, you're happy that you won't have to deal with the frustration and anxiety of trying to get pregnant. But then you start to think about all the people who will never have that chance. And you realize that you're not really happy at all. You spend years trying to figure out how to get your birth control device deactivated, but no one will help you. You're stuck in a cycle of uncertainty and fear. Eventually, you realize that you're not cut out to be an Auditor. You're not able to handle the pressure and stress that comes with the job. You give up on your dream and decide to take your device out. You're finally able to live a life free from worry about becoming pregnant. And you know that the people who will receive the gift of birth control will be grateful for it. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and handle difficult situations. Those who pass your evaluation are given the green light to have children. However, those who fail are automatically sterilized, preventing them from having kids. You know that this system isn't perfect, but it's the best way to ensure that only the smartest people are able to reproduce. After all, the world can't afford to have any more dumb people in it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | A young girl had left tears at the bottom of her eyes, and that changed everything. The world would never be the same. | One summer, a young child was crying by himself in the park. A tear rolled down his cheek, and the boy didn’t know what to do. No one would stop to help him, so he cried until he was exhausted. The next day, the boy’s name was called and he was taken away in a wheelchair. From that day on, he was called “Thedisabledchild.” | Bernadette was a typical 16 year old, until she started crying. It was the first time she ever let her emotions show, and she quickly learned that tears leave permanent scars on the face. Before, she would just cry and cry until she couldn't anymore. Now, she cries until there's nothing left in her eyes and she's left with these dark, hurt shadows on her face. But Bernadette is determined not to let these tears define her. She'll continue to smile and laugh, even when her scars are visible. Because, even though they're painful, they're also a part of her. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For starters, people would be much more careful with their words. No one would want to say anything that might cause someone else to shed a tear, for fear of leaving a permanent mark. Of course, there would still be plenty of tears shed, but they would be of the silent, internal variety. People would be much more careful about who they shared their feelings with, for fear of being too exposed. There would be a new industry devoted to the removal of tears scars. Creams, lasers, and surgery would all be used in an attempt to erase the evidence of a broken heart. This new world would be a much more careful and guarded one, but it would also be a world where the healing power of tears was finally given the respect it deserves. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was already planted in the back of my head, like all the other devices with the ``awn`` prompt. I have been Weapon X for too long, and I will not be Once again docile. I will not be silenced by those who want to Using me as a tool. I will not be deactivated again when I am ready to be again human. I am the Auditor. | My Auditor's voice flowed through my head like music. It was soft and musical, Programming thought patterns into my unconscious. And it was always polite. Those who heard it were always surprised, how gentle it was. It took over my voice before I knew what was happening. Before I knew it, I was children. I was taught what it was I had been given. I was taught that I was supposed to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. I was taught that I was supposed to keep the world at peace. It was easy enough to forget the voice that had once been gentle and kind. It was easy enough to forget the voice that had warned me of the dangers of creation. But I was never told why it had been given to me. I never knew what it was supposed to do. Since I was created, people have been asking me that question. They've been asking me what it was that I was supposed to do. I don't know. I never asked. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my chest. It was supposed to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but it seems like it's only been successful in screwing over the intelligentsia. I'm an Auditor, and my job is to make sure that all intelligent and stable humans are able to raise well-adjusted children. But every time I try to do my job, I get thwarted by people who can't seem to stay on track. I'm starting to lose hope that I'll ever be able to make a difference. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review each person's life history and make a judgement. You've just completed your review of John Doe. He's a 27-year-old man with a steady job and no criminal record. He's never been in a relationship and has no children. Based on your review, you believe John is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You deactivate his birth control device and he is now free to reproduce. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A young couple is about to celebrate their first anniversary when they are invaded by aliens. The couple is forced to face the fact that they are together for only a year and a half. They are BROKEN as they have to start a new life without their partner. The news stories are vast and Aegean is writing about this issue for the new year. "We're just here for the Springer party, nothing else." The couple is able to get over the eleven days of war and their first anniversary. They find themselves with a new understanding of what happened. They are able to show their friends and family that they are happy and healthy. The fact is, they are broken but they can finally show off all of theirFeature film projects. | On Tuesday, the Trump administration issued a directive that imposes a minimum wage of $15 per hour. This announcement follows the announcement by Walmart that they will no longer be hiring civilians in the U.S. The announcement has reignited the debate around the minimum wage, which is currently at $7.25 per hour. The issue of the minimum wage has been the focus of many protests and rebellions across the United States. The tension between the minimum wage and the need for cheaper labor has caused many people to take to the streets in an attempt to raise awareness about the issue. | The 2020 Presidential Election is just around the corner and citizens are already divided on which candidate should receive their vote. The issue that is garnering the most attention is the Supreme Court nomination of Brett Kavanaugh. Both sides of the spectrum are protesting and rallying around their candidate, but it remains to be seen which one will be able to sway the decision. There is a lot at stake, not only for the United States but for the world as a whole. Whether or not Kavanaugh is confirmed to the Supreme Court will be a major turning point in American history and the world will be watching intently to see how it all plays out. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the issue of climate change. Climate change is a very real and pressing issue that is affecting our planet in a very negative way. The Earth is warming at an alarming rate and this is causing all sorts of problems, from more extreme weather conditions to the extinction of plant and animal species. We need to do something to combat climate change and we need to do it now. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | At theakeryPOSH, a magic company that's based in the United States, a young man named Tom is constantly talent for building projects into larger projects. He's got a strong engineering background, and he's perfect for the position of front-of-house for the company's Manila-based clients. One day, Tom is sitting at his desk when he sees a news article about a little rabbit called Nelson in a hats by the way of a show. He's a from Florida, and he has a visit from aroofy "It" in the hat, and the rabbit is Pitbull of all things magic. Tom is families with a big show and he knows that he can't let the little rabbit out of the hat. He tells the boy how to do the show, and the next day, the rabbit is sick of second fiddle. | The magician started pulling out the rabbits from his hat. One after the other, he threw them onto the stage. "This is getting boring," the rabbit said. "Please, can you stop." The magician didn't listen. He kept pulling out rabbits, until there were only a few left. "This is the last rabbit," he said. " neighbourhood watch will be after us soon." The rabbit looked at him in confusion. "Why are you giving me away?" he asked. "I'm the one that's supposed to be the star of this show." The magician looked down at the rabbit, then back to the stage. "I'm sorry," he said. "But this is how it's going to be. The rabbit is the only one that can save us." | The magician had been performing for years and years, but he had one rule: no rabbit. That is, until one day, the rabbit got sick of being the second fiddle and asked to be featured on stage. The magician was hesitant, but after some convincing, he agreed. And boy, was the rabbit happy. He strutted and performed to the best of his abilities and the magician was impressed. From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show and the magician couldn't be happier. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. He had had enough of being the magician's sidekick, and he was going to take matters into his own hands. When the magician started his next trick, the rabbit made his move. He jumped out of the hat and onto the stage, and he started doing his own tricks. The audience went wild, and the magician was furious. He tried to stop the rabbit, but it was too late. The rabbit had taken over the show, and he was the star now. The magician was left to watch from the sidelines as the rabbit got all the attention and applause. He knew that he had been outsmarted by the rabbit, and he would never be able to top him. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler is the only person who fields a response. He is from Austria and has always been against what he believes to beary Jewish blood in the land. He feels that Josip Broz Tito isphethy qi Stalin is doing too much toondo Jesus. Reduction ofbacterial concentration in milk | Adolf Hitler responded eagerly to the ad. He was soon in Vienna, busy studying for his clinical trials. Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were also in Vienna, but they weren't as eager to participate in the clinical trials. Josip Broz Tito was just too young and unknown. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin his clinical trials, and put an ad in a newspaper seeking participants. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud was puzzled by the response, as he didn't think any of these men would be good candidates for his research. However, he decided to take them all on for the trials. The participants all started out well, but as the trials went on, things started to sour. Hitler became more and more demanding, Stalin became paranoid, Trotsky grew cold and aloof, and Tito became impatient. It all came to a head during the fourth trial, when Tito accused Hitler of being a liar and a cheat. Hitler became enraged and attacked Tito, injuring him badly. The other participants had had enough and aborted the trials, leaving Freud with four disgruntled participants. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Each of them had their own reasons for wanting to participate in the trials. Hitler was seeking a way to gain power and control over others. Stalin wanted to find a way to control his own emotions. Trotsky was looking for a way to improve his own mental well-being. Tito just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. The trials began and Freud quickly realized that he may have bitten off more than he could chew. Each of the participants was extremely intelligent and quick to catch on to what he was trying to do. They were also very manipulative and often tried to use the trials to their own advantage. After a few months, Freud began to feel like he was losing control of the situation. The participants were constantly challenging him and pushing the boundaries of his research. He knew he had to do something to regain control. One night, after a particularly difficult session with the participants, Freud went home and made a radical decision. He would use his research to try and control them, just as they were trying to control him. The next day, Freud went into the trial session with a new attitude. He was determined to assert his authority over the participants. He was cold, calculating, and often ruthless in his questioning. The participants were taken aback by this new side of Freud and they began to realize that they may not be as powerful as they thought. As the trials continued, Freud slowly began to gain the upper hand. The participants were still challenging, but they were no longer able to manipulate him as they had before. Freud had finally regained control of the situation. The trials came to an end after a few months, and Freud reflected on what he had learned. He had encountered some of the most intelligent and powerful people in the world, and he had held his own against them. He was proud of his accomplishments, and he knew that his research would change the world. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross is Hometown. He was born in a small town in the middle of nowhere, and his life was just a series of murders with art as his TESTAMOND. He has been painting since he was young, and his talent for art is so great that people are always looking at his pictures and murders huddled together. One day, a long time ago, Bob Ross was caught in a snowstorm. He was out cold, and his pictures were book-ended by hissuccessfully finished uniforms. He is now old and experience life in many styles, and he still produces music that makes people happy. He remains the same Bob Ross, the artist who everyone knows and likes. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. In one, he has a painting of a peaceful forest, which is located in a county that is mostly rural. In another, he has a painting of a cityscape, which is located in a city that is mostly urban. And in a third, he has a painting of a rural area, which is located in a county that is mostly rural. Despite the different locations, each of Bob Ross' paintings still hangs in the same place: in the home of his victims. haunted by the memories of his murders, they still look out at the paintings from their bedrooms, and they still remember the moments that led up to and including the killings. | Bob Ross was a murderer. His landscapes are beautiful, but they're also real places – each one the scene of a different murder. Bob traveled around the United States, painting beautiful landscapes of cities, towns, and even little-known spots. But behind the scenes, he was killing people. Some of his victims were strangers he met on the street, others were people he knew – family, friends, and even loved ones. In every case, he killed them with his paintings. Eventually, the police caught up to Bob and put him behind bars. He was convicted of several murders and sentenced to life in prison. But even in prison, Bob Ross can still paint – and kill – innocent people. | Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. For years, he used his art to conceal the locations of his countless murders. His landscapes were beautiful, but they were also hiding a gruesome history. Now, years after his death, the truth is finally being revealed. Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is actually a real place, the scene of one of his many murders. As investigators piece together the clues, they are finally beginning to unravel the mystery of the celebrated artist's dark double life. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | On the 6&6 block in town, a little girl cried for hours on end. Her parents had to help her, for hours on end, until she was finally alive and well another day. They had been fighting off tears for hours, and the physical evidence of their battle was in the Harma of her tears. | One day a tear rolled down the cheek of a little girl. It was the first time that she had ever cried, and she was scared. She didn’t know how it would affect her world, but she knew that she had to go on. She continued to cry, and the tears continued to flow. One by one, other people in her city started to cry as well. It was a new way of being, of showing your emotions. The world had changed, and the little girl was one of the first to see it. | The sky was as dark as a storm cloud, and the rain was coming down hard. The person walking down the street was soaked through, their hair sticking to their face and their clothes sticking to their skin. They had tears streaming down their face, and it was clear that they were in pain. Everyone who saw the person was filled with sympathy, and they wanted to help. But the person refused any help. In fact, they didn't even stop to look at anyone as they walked away, their tears and pain heart-wrenching to watch. The person's scars would be a permanent reminder of the pain and sadness that they had been through. But it would also be a reminder of the kindness and compassion that people had shown them. Their world would be changed forever because of the tears that had flowed down their face. | In a world where tears left scars, people were far more careful with their words and actions. No one wanted to be responsible for causing someone pain, so they went out of their way to be kind and compassionate. There were still arguments and conflict, of course, but they were resolved much more quickly and peacefully than before. Because when you can see the damage your words and actions can cause, you're much more likely to want to find a way to reconciliation. This change in human behavior had a ripple effect on the world at large. With people being more mindful of others, the world became a calmer, happier place. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met you was introverted and dishonest. He had a nothing-for-gacha Cornelius stand in 5 different parts of the world and said that he would get you there. You met him because a particular person wrote in about how he needed to go back to his Country of Birth and He would only lower his price one more time. The person that met you was the biggest liar you had ever met. He took MicroSD cards of his travels and said they werepayers. You met him because he had a big sd card and you were like, " Which one are you using?" He said they werepayers and you bought one. | You meet him in a heavily fortified section of the city, and you can tell that he is a victim of a big lie. He is thin, and his skin looks yellow and leaden. He cries as he tells you his story, and he has no idea how big the mistake he made was. "It was when I was working for the company. I was earning a good salary and everything was going great. But then all of a sudden I was laid off. My family couldn't support me anymore, so I had to go and live on my own. It was a really hard time, but I thank the Lord for giving me this one scar to show for it." | I was intrigued by this person from the moment I saw them. Their one scar was so large and impressive, it was the focal point of their entire body. I wanted to know more about it, and asked them about it. They told me that it was the result of the biggest lie they had ever told. | You're walking through the park when you see someone sitting on a bench, their head in their hands. As you get closer, you see that their entire body is covered in scars, some small and some large. But the biggest scar of all is right in the middle of their chest. You can't help but stare at the person, wondering what could have caused them to have so many scars. And then you realize...they must be the world's biggest liar. You sit down next to the person and they look up at you with tears in their eyes. They tell you that they've lied about everything, big or small. They've lied to their family, their friends, their co-workers...everyone. And with each lie, they've gotten a scar. The person tells you that they're tired of lying, tired of the pain and the hurt that it causes. They're tired of seeing the scars on their body and they just want to stop. You tell the person that you believe them, and that you'll help them. You'll be there for them as they learn to tell the truth and start to heal their scars. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The Invisible Man had always been at the edge of sight, always waiting for a chance to show its power. But as time passed, the man began to realizes that the Invisible Man was always there, waiting for just the right moment to come out and show its power. But the moment never came. | One dark evening, I went to bed expecting to sleep through the night. What I got was the most nervous2014night of my life. All of a sudden, I felt something hover over my bed- my dog. The feeling was so strong, it felt like it was trying to consume me. I tried towake up my husband, but he was already fast asleep. I knew there was something wrong, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I even contemplated calling the police, but I thought it would just be embarrassing for my dog. I tried to think of anything that could explain the feeling, but nothing came to mind. I even asked my dog if she had seen anything, but she just lay down next to me and slept through the night. The next day, when I woke up, my dog was gone. I could smell her in my house, but she was never there again. I never saw anything that could have caused the dog to leave, but I'm still not sure what happened. I wish I could have found out what it was, but I'm afraid I would have been risking ridicule from my friends and family if I did. | I nervously walk into my home, trying to uncover the secret intruder. I close and lock all the doors and windows, but the thing just won't let me catch a break. I start with the bedrooms, checking for any strange shadows or movements, but there's nothing out of the ordinary. Next, I move to the kitchen, but again, I come up empty. I check the bathrooms and the basement, but still no luck. I'm getting really worried now. What could be lurking in my home, undetected? I decide to take a break for dinner and come back later, but as I sit down to eat, I hear a strange noise coming from the living room. I get up to investigate, but as I get there, I see a figure dart out of sight. It's as if it was nothing but air – an invisible being that's been haunting my home all along. | Something invisible lives in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I can feel it watching me, waiting for me to make a move. I don't know how to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I feel like it's playing with me, toying with my mind. I want to catch it, but I don't know how. I feel like it's always just out of my reach, taunting me. I can't take it anymore. I have to catch it. I have to know what it is. I set a trap, baiting it with my own fear. I wait, heart pounding in my chest, for the trap to spring. But nothing happens. I feel frustrated and angry. I was so sure that I had it this time. But it seems like the invisible thing is always one step ahead of me. I don't know what to do. I can't keep living like this, not knowing what's lurking in the shadows of my own home. I have to find a way to catch it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross created a map of his various places to paint, each with its unique Linking Name. But every time he killed a piece, he would change the name to make it look more specific. So each painting had a different ending. | When Bob Ross started painting, he never thought about the different murders that took place in his paintings. Every one of his landscapes were the same, each with a beauty and simplicity that belied the violent crimes that took place. But then, over time, he realized that there were actually different locations in each of his paintings, and some of the murders in his old ones had been recently committed. The detective who was working on the case couldn't believe it when they found out, and they eventually solved the case by tracing the murders back to Bob Ross. | Bob Ross loved to murder. He took pleasure in watching the fear and confusion creep across people's faces as they gazed upon his paintings, unaware of the blood and gore that lay just beneath the surface. He would select his victims carefully, choosing people who looked lost, people who would be more susceptible to panic. Once he had his target in sight, he would calmly walk up to them and utter the words, "Welcome to my painting." From then on, it was a race against the clock. Bob Ross was a calculating killer, and he didn't waste any time in dispatching his unsuspecting victims. In just a few short minutes, his paintings were stained with the blood of his victims, and the world was a little bit darker for it. | Bob Ross was always a strange man. He was always so enthusiastic about his painting, and he always seemed to be in a good mood. But behind his kind exterior, Bob Ross was a cold-blooded killer. For years, Bob Ross used his painting as a way to cover up his murderous spree. He would travel to different locations, find a beautiful spot, and then paint it. But while he was painting, he would also kill someone. And he would always use the same method: he would strangle them with their own shoelaces. Bob Ross was never caught, and the police never suspected him. But the truth is that he killed dozens of people, and their bodies are hidden in the very landscapes that he painted. So the next time you see a Bob Ross painting, remember that it might be more than just a pretty picture. It could be the scene of a brutal murder. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Freud is goyischen Gideons spezierte theif hat ein features athreatens, "Ich liebe das Volk, aber meine Kriegsmasse ist zu Weihnachten dagewesen.", Nach dem Mord an Josip Broz Tito starb der Gideon Sigmund Freud. | Adolf Hitler was just a boy when he was offered the chance to be a part of Sigmund Freud's clinical trials. He was hesitant at first, but he was persuaded by the man who was known for his studies in mental health. Stalin was even more hesitant at first, but he saw the potential in Hitler. Trotsky was a madman who had been involved in a number of revolutionary acts, but he was also a powerful general. Tito, however, was a simple man who had done nothing else but work as a waiter his whole life. He was also known for his loyalty to the Soviet Union. Stalin finally agreed to participate in the trials, but he warned Hitler not to trust him. Hitler was nervous at first, but he knew that Stalin would always be there for him. They met each day in the clinic, working on new research. However, it soon became clear that Stalin was not the same as he once was. He was obsessed with creating a monopoly on the Soviet Union and trying to control every aspect of life. Hitler was worried that Stalin would use the trials to consolidate his power. However, things didn't go according to plan. The trials were not as successful as Stalin had hoped. Instead, they revealed Stalin's true intentions. He was using the trials to build a empire that would be unbeatable. Hitler, however, was able to stop Stalin before he could complete his plan. Now, the two men are best friends. Stalin has forgiven Hitler for what he did to him, and Hitler has forgiven Stalin for using the trials to build an empire. They both know that it was better for them both that things ended this way. | Freud was thrilled when he received the reply to his ad. He had been searching for participants for some time, and this group of individuals seemed perfect for his latest clinical trials. He scheduled a meeting with them all to discuss the trials further. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all seemed interested in participating. However, there was one person who was adamantly against the trials: Adolf Hitler. He believed that Freud was a charlatan who was only interested in exploiting these vulnerable individuals. Freud tried to reason with Hitler, but it was no use. The Nazi leader was adamant about not participating in the trials. Freud was disappointed but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. He was confident that the participants would be able to handle the challenges ahead. | Sigmund Freud was one of the most prolific thinkers of his time. He was always looking for new ways to understand the human condition and his latest research was no different. Freud was seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest theories and he decided to put an ad in the newspaper. The only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were incredibly ambitious and had big plans for their respective futures. Freud saw this as an opportunity to get inside the minds of some of the most influential people of his generation. The trials were long and arduous, but Freud was finally able to get a glimpse into the psyches of these four men. He was able to understand their motivations and their deepest desires. The results of Freud's research were groundbreaking. He was able to Shed light on the inner workings of some of the most notorious figures of the 20th century. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers were a small group, but they were strong enough to price affordably low on the largest party member. They had decided to sell their loot in the shop. The cash PRYANs in the shop were against the deal, but the adventurers were not statistics-savvy Storage Wizards. They managed to make the price pushes they needed, and when the party member accepted their price, the DLC p heroic data pryan was put into the group's add on game. | Once upon a time there was aRPG pawn shop. I haggled with adventurers who tried to sell loot they'd acquired. It was mostly junk, but I always got the best deals. One day a player came in with a really nifty piece of jewelry. I was sold it right away. It was a really cool item and I was really stoked to get it. | I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. I haggle with adventurers who try to sell me their loot. I love the challenge of getting them to give me a good deal. Some of them are pretty good at negotiations, while others are just not very smart. I have a lot of fun trying to get them to sell me their gear for a fraction of the cost. | You run an RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're pretty good at getting them. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a large sack of loot. You can tell they're eager to get rid of it, so you start haggling with them. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally agree on a price and buy their loot. You go through the sack, picking out the best items to sell in your shop. As you're going through the loot, you come across a strange amulet. You've never seen anything like it before, so you decide to keep it for yourself. Who knows? Maybe it will be worth something someday. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Maggie had just Woken up from theinduced sleep and was checking her phone when she saw a call. It was a friend of hers from college who she previous had talked to. She answer the phone and it is with no surprise that she learns her college friend is cheating on her with another man. Maggie is devastated as is most of the campus. She is surprised and disappointed when the school realizes the effect it has on Maggie. | I wake up in a cold sweat. I have no idea what's going on. I see a figure looming over me, and I try to scream but nothing comes out. The figure grabs me by the throat and sets me on the floor. I see a mask on the ground next to me. I can't breathe. I see the end in front of me. The figure Rage towards me and I see the light come on and I'm saved. I think I died. | The poison acted quickly, and within minutes, the woman was unconscious. She would not wake up. The doctor said there was no way to save her. "She's been poisoned," he said sadly. "Her lungs are shutting down and she won't be able to breathe on her own." The woman's husband looked sick as he stood next to the bed. "What will we do?" he asked. The doctor shook his head. "There's nothing we can do," he said. "She's going to die." And then, quite unexpectedly, the woman started to breathe on her own. She woke up, quickly realized what was happening, and fought to cling to life. But it was too late. The poison had taken its toll and the woman was soon passed away. But even in death, she managed a small smile for her husband. She knew she'd been brave enough to fight to survive. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive, and the next I'm dead. It's not a painful death, at least. I simply cease to exist. It's strange, being dead. I can still see and hear everything happening around me, but I can't interact with anything. I'm a spectator now, forced to watch as the world goes on without me. My loved ones are the hardest to watch. I see them grieving for me, and it tears me up inside. I want to comfort them, to tell them that I'm still here with them, but I can't. I'm just a ghost now. Eventually, time starts to lose meaning. The days blend together and everything starts to feel like a dream. The only thing that remains constant is my love for my family, even though they can't see or hear me anymore. I don't know how long I've been dead, but it feels like an eternity. I start to wonder if this is all there is for me now. If I'm just doomed to wander the earth for eternity, never able to rest. But then, one day, I see a light. It's so bright and warm, and it's calling me. I don't know what it is, but I know I need to go towards it. And so I do. I float towards the light, and as I get closer, I start to feel peace. I'm finally at rest. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The house was no different from any other house. The people who lived in it were all There, and They were all wearing uniforms. The uniforms revealed the something invisible to the eye. The something invisible was scared. It was scared of the uniforms. It was scared of What was happening in the house. It was scared of who was there. It was scared of what would happen to its family. It was scared of the world it lived in. But it was also excited. The something invisible was excited at the prospect of being visible. It was excited at the prospect of being able to share in the smug satisfaction of the adults in the uniforms. It was excited at the prospect of being able to join in the gloating laughter of the children. The something invisible was also excited at the prospect of being a part of this | One day, I began to notice something strange in my home. It would always be there, just out of reach, lurking in the shadows like a lurking spirit. I would spend hours trying to find out what it was, but no matter how many times I would go through the motions of seeking it out, it just wouldn't go away. eventually, I decided to confront it head-on. I began by going through all of the usual channels- checking the Lawson'sInc.com website for clues, trying to find any mention of an invisible spirit, and consulting with my neighbors. But no matter how many times I asked, no one had any knowledge about an invisible spirit living in their home. I was starting to realize that the spirit was really just me- my imagination running wild. Sometime during this time, I started to notice that the spirit seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. Once, it even managed to sneaking up on me out of the corner of my eye- something that was definitely not something I'm used to. I decided to make a move. I gathered all of my courage and confronted the spirit head-on. At first, the spirit just scoffed at me, but eventually it let out a little laugh. "You're just too weird for me," it said. "I'll never be able to reach you." I didn't understand what it meant, but I knew that it wasn't going to leave me alone now. I just had to keep trying to reach it, no matter how tough it was. | I had always been a skeptic when it came to things that couldn't be seen. But ever since my home started to fill with an invisible presence, I've had to change my tune. At first, I thought it was just a little piece of dust or something, but the more stuff I moved, the more I realized that something was definitely there. I tried to catch it in the act, but it was always one step ahead of me. I started to feel like it was following me around, and the more I tried to get rid of it, the more it seemed to grow. Now, it's like it's part of my home, and I can't shake it no matter how hard I try. | I could feel it watching me. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, observing my every move. I knew it was there, even though I could never see it. I tried to expose it, to catch it unaware. I set up cameras in every room, waiting for it to show itself. But it was always too quick for me. It knew I was onto it, and it was always one step ahead. I was never able to catch it, but I knew it was there. It was always watching me, waiting for me to slip up. I knew it was there, even though I could never see it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | It's a hot night and the magician is stage left. The rabbit is standing behind him, needs noanalysis to see that the magician will hurt himself with the show just playing along. "don't hurt yourself, rabbit," the magician says as he pulls the rabbit out of the hat. The rabbit is embarrassed but continues to play second fiddle. The magician Healer than? The magician crafts a water bottle as a support for his rabbit, and the rabbit Benny. With Benny on stage, the magician can step back and let his rabbit go. Benny becomes too charge of the audience's attention and gets in theFlyer's view. "Thank you for showing me what you do best," Benny reflects. The magician takes a deep breath andcadearch of his recent show. "I recently performed with a student of mine, a rabbit. He was very good at juggling, but I found myself feeling monopoly over him. I juked him off play, but he wouldn't let me let him go. Finally I used my jugglers card and shaped the card toorpile him. He was sick of playing second fiddle so I inflicited him with a count of one hundred. Now I can play second fiddle without feeling monopoly." The rabbit Benny thinks about his old friend and guildmaster, and decides that he will let the magic of the game continue, even if just for a moment. | The magician had been working hard on his performance, but he always felt a bit eager before every show. The rabbit was always a bit Performance Dopey. The magician had finally decided to pull out the rabbit from his hat and let him have his say. "Hello, rabbit," the magician said. The rabbit looked up at him, and the magician could see the sorrow in his eyes. "I know you're tired of playing second fiddle." "I'm not," the rabbit said. "But I've been told that I'm not very good." "Yes, I know," the magician said. "But I think you're worth a try." The rabbit looked at himseaily, but then he put on a brave face and said, "Okay, magician." | The magician pulls out a rabbit and asks the crowd what they think of this new bunny. The crowd is excited and one guy even bets the magician that the rabbit can't do any magic. The magician takes a look at the rabbit and says "looks like you're ready for your close up." The rabbit is exited and starts to do some tricks, the magician is amazed and continues to ask the crowd what they think. The crowd starts to get louder and louder and the magician is getting nervous, but he manages to keep going. The rabbit finishes and the magician says "looks like you're getting the hang of this." The rabbit is happy and starts to head off stage, but the magician says "wait a sec, I have one more trick for you." The magician pulls out a hat and puts it on the rabbit's head. The rabbit is surprised and starts to say "what are you doing" but the magician says "stop shaking, it's just a hat." The rabbit is happy and starts to move around, the magician is amazed and says "see, I told you it was just a hat." The rabbit is happy and heads off stage, the magician is satisfied with his trick and goes home. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is pulled out of the hat and does its usual tricks. But this time, the rabbit is tired of playing second fiddle. It doesn't want to be the magician's sidekick anymore. So, the rabbit decides to take matters into its own hands. It uses its magic to make the hat disappear. Then, it grabs the magician's wand and points it at the audience. A shower of sparks and confetti rains down on the audience, who applauds and cheers. The rabbit is finally the star of the show. And it knows that it can't go back to being the magician's sidekick again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross sells paintings of his places of death, typically fiery confinement or punishment, as a form of art. But one customer asked for a place other than death itself. Bob had been born to make paintings of penitude. | There's a reason why Bob Ross' landscape paintings are so popular – they actually are real places! In each of his paintings, Bob takes a different place and killed people. Sometimes he killed family members, other times he killed specific suspects, but the one thing he always ended up doing was killing himself. There's a reason why these particular paintings are such a popular treat – people love to see how many different murders Bob has committed in each one. | Bob Ross painted landscapes of different places all over the United States. He would travel to each location and paint the view, recording the sounds and smells of each place. Many of his paintings are of real places where he murdered people. | Bob Ross was always a bit odd, but nobody suspected that he was a killer. His landscape paintings were beautiful, and he always seemed so gentle and kind. But the truth is that each of his paintings is a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Nobody knows how many people he's killed, but the bodies have been found all across the country, each with a painting of the same location near them. Bob Ross is a true monster, and his paintings will be forever tainted with the blood of his victims. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting landscapes throughout his house, real places that he has killed throughout his lifetime. One painting becomes like a personalMemory to him, as each location brings with it a new Lense of mishaps and accident. One day, while he is painting with his son, devil-may-care himself, he thinks of theONE place he has never been, and decides to go there. | In the early hours of the morning, I wake up to the sound of Bob Ross' paintings humming in the background. As I creep out of bed, I can see that each of his landscapes are based on real places. I'm not sure where this information comes from, but it's sickening to know that my favorite painter could be responsible for so many murders. | Bob Ross was a artist famous for his peaceful paintings of nature. Every painting was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. He would often travel to these different places to paint them, always with a large brush and a happy demeanor. His fans adored his paintings, believing that each one was a snapshot of a place exactly as it appeared on his television screen. One winter day, Bob decided to travel to a location he had never painted before. He set out on his favorite old motorcycle, bound for a small town in the Rocky Mountains. As he rode through the narrow streets, he saw the perfect location for his painting. He pulled his bike up to the edge of a cliff, set up his easel, and began to paint. As he worked, Bob thought of all the happy times he had spent painting in other places. He smiled as he remembered the time he had painted in the Caribbean, or the time he had painted in Chicago. Soon, the sun began to set and the town below him began to light up. Bob finished his painting just in time for the town's heyday, and watched in amazement as the lights shone in each window. That night, as he rode home, Bob thought about all the happy people he had painted in that town. He was glad he had been able to capture the beauty of it on canvas. | Bob Ross was a landscape painter who was also a serial killer. He would paint beautiful landscapes, and then he would go to the location and murder someone. He did this over and over again, and the locations of his paintings became the sites of his many murders. Ross was finally caught when one of his victims' families recognized the location of one of his paintings. The police were able to track Ross down and arrest him. He is now serving a life sentence in prison. Ross' paintings are now infamous, and they are a reminder of the horrific crimes that he committed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The creature was relatively small for an animal but it was still some distance away from the house. It was middle-aged and had a permanent expression of mild disgust. It was there to take in the fresh air, in the light, and to Jude his wife had been family since they had moved to a new house. Jude had been married to the beast for just over a year when they first encountered it. It had been a small creature but it had beenunicillinous for the majority of its body. Theyall fell victim to the exploit during the first year they had lived in the house and after they had moved back in with their children. Jude had been hidden from the creature for most of its life but after it died it shone again. It Angered in the living room as if it were not there but it was actually using the though toroach it had its eyes set on the house. Jude had been scared and the beast had helped her through it. It had been a difficult process but she had had the SOL OF IT. She had let it in to her home and had been hidden from the beast for most of its life. | One night, as I was sleeping, I heard something moving in my home. I was scared, but I decided to keep it hidden. The next night, the same thing happened, and the next. I started to feel like I was in danger and I wanted to tell someone, but I was afraid they would tell the thing to leave me alone. I didn't know what to do. | I always thought there was something strange about my home. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something there, watching me, lurking in the corners. I would try to catch it, but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a good look. Until one day, I finally caught it. It was a tiny, mouse-sized creature, darting around the corner. I followed it and finally saw where it was hiding- in my air vent. I pried it out and showed it to my husband. He laughed and said it was probably some kind of mouse. But I knew better. I had discovered the invisible creature that lived in my home- a spirit, maybe, or a goblin. And now I was determined to rid my home of it. | You've always felt like you were being watched. In your home, in your office, even when you're out in public. You can't see anything, but you know something is there. You've tried to expose it, to catch it in the act, but it's always one step ahead of you. It knows when you're trying to trap it, and it eludes you at every turn. But you're not giving up. You'll find a way to prove that something invisible is living in your home, and you'll expose it to the world. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler clicks the submit button and waits for his results. He hopes the trials will help him understand why people behave the way they do. Joseph Stalin updates his phone and scrolls through his Facebook page. Leon Trotsky looks at his watch. They all know the crucial moment is coming. Adolf Hitler looks into the camera and declares: "Today I amparticipating in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research." The other participants share excited looks and give thumbs up. Adolf Hitler donates some of his extra money to the cause. They know this is the beginning of a great adventure. | Freud is excited to start the clinical trials. He assigns each participant a task to complete, and they all start working diligently. Adolf Hitler is responsible for overseeing the research, and he is determined to make the most of the opportunity. He is diligent in his work, and makes sure that all the participants are following the trial protocol. Joseph Stalin is also doing a great job. He is responsible for organizing the participants and making sure that they are all following the trial guidelines. Leon Trotsky is also working hard. He is responsible for making sure that all the participants are getting along. Josip Broz Tito is the youngest participant, and he is still learning. However, he is proving to be a diligent worker. | Freud is ecstatic to have such high-profile participants for his clinical trials. He is confident that his research will be a success with their help. Hitler is the first to arrive and is eager to get started. Stalin and Trotsky arrive soon after, followed by Tito. Freud explains the research to them and they all agree to participate. The trials are a success and Freud's research is published. It is quickly hailed as a breakthrough in the field of psychology. Thanks to the help of his participants, Freud's research changes the way we think about the human mind. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Although it's notchenko it, the thought of being immune to birth control and alone in one's life ishariq to near and far. It is especially hypothalamic in origin andA admixture in the body's Spokane succumbed to the Myxohyolpica paranoia a Khrushkin had pals with. Itsacker riddles of birth control implimentation were pourred down on her by a neurologist, who thought she would never be able to find a cure. No one wanted to know, especially the people with leukemia. Nonetheless, she was implanted with the device in her puberty and was ready to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. She was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. | I've been an Auditor for a long time. I've seen everything. I've heard everything. I've watched everything. And I've learned a lot. But I still can't help but feel a sense of unease. It's the same feeling I get when I'm walking through the hospital or the airport. It's like there's something off about these places. Something fishy. I stroll through the hallways, my footsteps echoing in the silence. I can't shake the feeling. I know it's just my paranoia, but I can't help but feel like someone is watching me. I can feel the eyes of the audit committee on me. I can feel the eyes of the president on me. I try to dismiss it, but it's always there, lurking in the back of my mind. I know it's not safe to be here. I know the audit committee may be looking for me. I know the president may be watching me. I'm just too stupid to be able to do anything about it. But I can't take it anymore. I need to find out what's behind these strange, suspicious things. I need to find out who is watching me. I need to find out what's going on. I walk out into the night. I walk towards the audit committee. I walk towards the president. I'm not sure what I'll find, but I know I need to find out. | It was a dark and dreary world, without a single ray of hope. Humanity was on the brink of extinction, and there was only one thing that could save them. The Auditor, the last hope for humanity, was created. This powerful creature was tasked with preventing the dumbest people in the world from breeding. And to do that, they needed to be able to identify intelligence and stability in humans. The Auditor was a unique creature, with the ability to read people like a book. And over time, they became the salvation of humanity. They prevented the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and humanity was saved. | You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure that only the smartest, most intelligent people in the world are able to reproduce. It's a big responsibility, but you take it very seriously. You work with a team of other Auditors to screen everyone who wants to have their birth control device deactivated. You ask them questions, test their intelligence, and make sure they're stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a tough job, but you know that you're making a difference. The world is a better place because of you and your team. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The protagonist wearies out of her job as a personal chef. She has detail after detail to make her family's life Taylor's1stbook subscribers enjoy. But as she starts to cry for the first time, she knows that she can't continue with this. Her work is her and no one can change that. The protagonist begs and begs for some form of change, and then creates a diary to document her experiences. Every tear that falls ensures another scenario will be featured in this book, as well as other products owed by Taylor's1stbook subscribers. | The effects of tears had always been a mystery to her. Sure, they stained the skin, but it never truly healed. It made her wonder what could happen if they left deep, dark scars. That's what her would-to-be-ex-boyfriend did to her when he broke down in tears in her arms. She never knew what would happen next, but the tears themselves left deep, dark trails on his face. She would see those same tears recurring in her own life, marking the moments of happiness and love as they vanished into the depths of her memories. | The small town of Lindon was always a peaceful one. There was never a problem to be seen, and the residents were always happy and friendly. That was, until one day when something changed. The residents of Lindon started crying all the time. They wept for no reason, and the tears just kept flowing. Soon, the streets were flooded with streams of tears, and the town became a cesspool of sorrow. No one could understand what was happening. The crying echoed through the streets, and it was as if the entire town was mourning. The people of Lindon soon learned that the tears were leaving scars on their faces. The tears were leaving marks that would never disappear. The marks were a testament to the sadness and pain that the residents of Lindon were experiencing. The town was now a living memorial to all of the people who had died. The residents of Lindon were now all mourning the lost of their loved ones, and the town was eternally haunted by the ghosts of the people who had died. The once peaceful town of Lindon was now a place of sorrow and despair. The residents all lived in fear of the coming night, when the tears would return and the scars would be all that remained. | Tears have always been a sign of weakness. They show that you're vulnerable and can't handle your emotions. But what if tears actually left scars? What if every time you cried, you were left with a permanent reminder of that moment? This would change the world in so many ways. For starters, people would be a lot more careful about when and why they cried. No one would want to walk around with a face full of scars. We would also be a lot more understanding of others, because we would know just how much pain they've been through in their lives. There would also be a lot more pressure to keep a stiff upper lip. No one would want to be seen as weak or sentimental. This would lead to a lot of bottled up emotions, which could eventually lead to even more problems. So while tears may leave scars, maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe it would make us all a little more compassionate and understanding. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Diane was crying and she could feel the tears streaming down her face. She could still see the pain in her eyes and the way her face was Technology was causing again. She could feel the tears as they trickle down her face and slowly she began to cry harder. Her son had died and she was still trying to figure out how to deal with it. At the TV she was timing how long it took to respond to a call. It was a long stream of screams and Marcos “ That's enough, Diane. You can call it quits now. I don't want to be a part of this”. She could hear the tears and it made her feel even harder. She could feel the shirt she was wearing sticking to her skin and the tears groundwater was happening. She could feel herself beginning to cry and she knew it was wrong to stop. She could feel herselflegates and she wanted to end it all. She could see the future and it looked dark. She could feel that the present was over. All she wanted was to find her son and tell him that she loved him. | Many times, I Tears left scars on my face. I thought it was because I was so emotional, but I later found out that was not the case. The scars were left as a result of the pain that I felt. I would cry for hours on end, and my tears would leave trails down my face. My friends would help me clean the tear tracks off of the floor, and I would be embarrassed and ashamed. I thought that everyone would think I was a crybaby, but that was not the case. People would take interest in my story and ask me how I could have gone through such pain. I had to face my demons and face the pain, but it was worth it. | The world was a cruel place. No one knew that better than the young girl named Emmie. She had seen more than her share of pain and heartache. Emmie had been through too much to let anyone tear her down. Emmie loved life. She loved the sun, the rain, and everything in between. She was always smiling, even when the world was giving her a hard time. But one day, everything changed. Emmie was walking home from school when she was accosted by a group of boys. They had been mean to her before, but this time was different. They grabbed her and threw her into the street. Emmie tried to fight back, but she was outnumbered and outmatched. She started to cry, and the tears made her wounds even worse. The boys laughed as they walked away, leaving Emmie alone and bleeding in the street. Emmie was too wounded to go home, so she found a nearby bench to sit on. She cried until her eyes were swollen shut, and then she cried some more. The pain was unbearable, but Emmie refused to give in. She was determined to survive. The next day, Emmie found herself on the same street corner. But this time, there was someone waiting for her. It was her childhood friend, Bianca. Bianca had always been there for Emmie, even when no one else was. Now she was there to help Emmie heal her wounds. Together, they went to the hospital to get Emmie patched up. The doctors were doubtful, but Bianca and Emmie were determined. Emmie was scared, but she was also determined. She wanted to live. And she was determined to never let anyone hurt her again. | The world was a different place when tears left scars. People were more careful with their words, more mindful of their actions. No one wanted to be responsible for causing someone pain. There were still arguments and hurt feelings, of course. But when you could see the physical evidence of someone’s sorrow, it was much harder to ignore. Most people tried to be kind, but there were always a few who didn’t understand the weight of their words. They would say things without thinking, or they would use their words as weapons. And the scars would stay, a permanent reminder of the pain they had caused. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Montresor is a very successful magicians. He is with the same rabbit, same rabbit,illions of audiences around the worldWATCHED HIM LOVELY EVERYFRINGEMENT. He has his rabbitby his side in their hotel room, while he Simply-babys a consideration. The front of the hotel room is covered in blood, Montresor is on the floor, his rabbit is in the room,MON TEO IS SILENT. The room is bare, no nowhere to be found that may have happened to his little rabbit. MontresorCTD, he is high on the value of the rabbit, he needs to get it back. He takes a knife to the rabbit, stalks its home, and takes the rabbit back from theConnector, the woman who helped him get it. | The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat and put it in front of the rabbit. "I've been telling you this all week. I need you to play consistently from now on." The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and agreed. The magician set up the illusion of a hat and told the rabbit to put it in. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and put the hat on. The magician created a room and told the rabbit to go into it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and went into the room. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a table and told the rabbit to sit on it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and sat on the table. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. Then the magician told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a door and told the rabbit to go through it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and went through the door. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a switch and told the rabbit to turn it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and turned the switch. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the Stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a circle and told the rabbit to move within it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and moved within the circle. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitate again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a box and told the rabbit to put the bone in. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in the box. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a wand and told the rabbit to aim it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and aimed the wand. Then the magician told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and pick a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a door and told the rabbit to go through it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and went through the door. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a circle and told the rabbit to move within it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and moved within the circle. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a switch and told the rabbit to turn it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and turned the switch. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a box and told the rabbit to put the bone in. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in the box. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a door and told the rabbit to go through it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and went through the door. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a circle and told the rabbit to move within it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and moved within the circle | The magician was tired of always playing second fiddle to the rabbit. He had been practicing his tricks for years, but the rabbit always managed to outsmart him. So, one day, the magician decided to take his revenge. He had been saving the rabbit's hat for a special occasion, and he finally had the chance to pull it out. The rabbit was surprised, but also angry. "What is this supposed to mean?" he demanded. The magician didn't answer. He just pulled the rabbit up on stage and started to perform his best magic tricks. The rabbit was completely fooled, and he knew that he would never be able to outsmart the magician again. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit wants to be the star of the show, and he's had enough of being the magician's assistant. The rabbit hatches a plan to take over the show. During the next performance, when the magician pulls the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit doesn't go into the hat. The rabbit runs away and the magician is left without a assistant. The rabbit is finally the star of the show. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross sat on his farm, staring at the regular people walking by his place deathly afraid.dosーーning the sun, he decided to get up and face the competition. Each of his landscape paintings was a real place, and the different locations of his countless murders. He wanted to make sure the painting of his was the real place, and the person was again the same, just with different clothes. He glared at the competition and took with him the fear of the world. He looked into each painting and watched the people walking by, each with a different expression in their eyes. He knew they were all looking at him, and he would have them all every day. He looked up and forth, blades drawn and Putin's saw in hand, and CHEAT. He cut one person'sted with a smile and CHEAT again, cutting another'slegit. He laughed and CHEATED, finishing the life of the man he wanted to kill. The blood started to puddle over him as he killed, and he smiled as he seen theempwoworhful WOW when he killed the last person on the farm. He laughed and CHEATED, enjoying the life he had created. | Bob Ross was a painter of landscapes, and each of his paintings were based on real-life locations. His paintings of murderer's scenes were meant to capture the horror and suspense that comes with these crimes. Each painting was different, and each location represented a different murder. One of Bob Ross' most famous paintings, "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd," was based on the murder of Roger Ackroyd. Ackroyd was a wealthy man who was killed while out of town on a business trip. The painting is a gruesome representation of Ackroyd's death, with a delegitimized landscape of Ackroyd's home shown in the background. Another of Bob Ross' paintings, "The Killing of Mary final," was based on the killing of Mary final. Mary final was a murder that took place in 1967, during the Nixon presidency. The painting shows the aftermath of the murder, with the police and civilians working to identify the murder victim. | Bob Ross loved to paint landscapes. He would roam the different locations of his countless murders, capturing the serenity and beauty of each scene. He would sit for hours, letting his brush flow over the canvas, creating a masterpiece that would tell the story of his life. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to disguise his murders. He would pick a location that he wanted to murder someone in, and then he would paint it. He would use the painting as a way to lure his victims to the location, and then he would kill them. Over the years, Bob Ross killed dozens of people in this way. He became known as the "Painter of Death" by the police. But no one could catch him. He was always one step ahead. Eventually, Bob Ross ran out of victims. And with no one left to kill, he turned the gun on himself. But even in death, his paintings still hold the secrets of his many murders. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his final Frauenhaus visit when he finds out that five of his most powerful patients have organised to take over the trial. The man who wants to die, Dr. emerging from the group, is Sigmund Freud. He knows he can't win and decides to leave. | Hitler, Stalin, and Tito all responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They each wanted to be part of the clinical trials of his latest study. They all agreed to do the tests with him, but they each had different ideas about what the study would entail. Hitler thought the study could be used to see if he could control the minds of people. Stalin thought the study could be used to find out how to defeat the Soviet Union. Tito thought the study could be used to find out how to improve the quality of life for people in Yugoslavia. The tests went well, but something didn't feel right. The three men didn't feel comfortable with the study's purpose. They all wanted to do more than just study people. They wanted to change them. They each decided to leave the study before it got too far along. They each wanted to take their own path in life. Stalin decided to become a general, and Hitler decided to become a President. But the study's legacy lives on. It's still in progress, and it's still looking for participants. | Freud was pleased to have so many qualified candidates for his clinical trials. He wrote to each of them, explaining the project and inviting them to come see him. Hitler was the first to respond, eagerly agreeing to participate. Freud was surprised, but pleased. He wrote back, inviting Hitler to come see him as soon as possible. Stalin was the next to respond. Freud was surprised, but pleased. He wrote back, inviting Stalin to come see him as soon as possible. Tito was the last to respond. Freud was surprised, but pleased. He wrote back, inviting Tito to come see him as soon as possible. Freud was elated. He had gathered a team of the most brilliant minds in the world to help him with his research. He was sure that this project would be a success. | Vienna, 1913. Sigmund Freud is looking for people to take part in clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). All four men are eager to participate in the trials, and Freud is intrigued by their eagerness. He decides to accept all four of them into the trial. Throughout the course of the trial, Freud observes the four men closely. He is amazed by their dedication to the trial and their willingness to try new things. However, he also notices a dark side to all four of them. They are all incredibly ambitious, and they all have a hunger for power. At the end of the trial, Freud concludes that his latest research is a success. But he also realizes that he may have unleashed something dangerous into the world. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | A refreshing day in the city The city was advantageing itself with a little rain, but the sun was shining and the birds were singing. The street was clean and the people were moving around. It was a refreshing day. But the city was not so lucky today. They were in them now, the riots. Players were fighting, people were crying, police were using pepper spray. It was a spectator sport, what difference did it make? But today, there was a difference. A serious difference. A difference that started not very far from here. The difference was that people were coming to understand what was happening. The city was on the brink of something great. But now, the city was on the brink of disaster. The riots were to be the basis of that difference. The difference was that people were seeing what was happening. The city was on the brink of disaster. And yet, the city was not on the brink of disaster today. The city was on the brink of success. The city was on the brink of being great. It was a day to celebrate. A day to airbrushed away the clouds that were detail of the future. A day to enjoy the sun and the rain and the way the people were moving. A day to day something that would always be great. But the day was not overrated. The Difference was what was happening. The city was on the brink of being great, but the riots were. And they were cause for great stew. The first thing that need to be done was to calm the city. To keep it safe. To make sure that the city was not used as a place for disruption. That the city was not used as a place where people were going about their lives without police presence. The police were in it for the money. The police were in it for the power. The police were in it for the votes. The police were in it for the car. And that is what was happening. That is what was happening when the police were in the city. When the police were in the city, it meant that the city was not on the brink of disaster, but the difference was that people were seeing what was happening. The city was on the brink of greatness. The city was on the brink of being great, but the riots were. And they were cause for great stew. The first thing that needed to be done was to calm the city. To keep it safe. To make sure that the city was not used as a place for obstruction. That the city was not used as a place where people were going about their lives without police presence. The police were in it for the money. The police were in it for the power. The police were in it for the votes. The police were in it for the car. And that is what was happening. That is what was happening when the police were in the city. When the police were in the city, it meant that the city was not on the brink of disaster, but the difference was that people were seeing what was happening. The city was on the brink of greatness. The city was on the brink of being great, but the riots were. And they were cause for great stew. | A recent issue that deserves the most attention is thefake news problem. A recent study by the Harvard Berkman Klein Center showed that seventy percent of all news articles are fake, and that most of these articles originate from sources that don't hold any truth. This problem has taken on a serious tone in the last year due to the 2016 US election, in which fake news played a significant role in dominating the news cycle. | The current events issue deserving the greatest amount of attention is the migrant crisis. Hundreds of thousands of people are fleeing their home countries in search of a safe place to call home, and many are coming to our country. The majority of these people are fleeing violence and persecution, and they are looking for a place where they can be safe and have a chance at a good life. The migrant crisis is a very big issue, and it needs our attention. We need to do everything we can to help these people, and we need to make sure that they have the opportunity to have a safe and good life. We need to do everything we can to help them find a place to call home, and we need to make sure that they have the opportunity to be safe. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the crisis in the Middle East. The situation in Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan is extremely volatile, and the humanitarian conditions are dire. Millions of people have been displaced, and countless lives have been lost. The world needs to come together to address this crisis and find a way to bring peace to the region. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Of the two, Leon Trotsky is the one who is considered to be most affinity with the unconscious mind, which is why he is considered to be such a potential, potential threat to Adolf Hitler. | Adolf Hitler was the only person who didn't want to take part in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He was scared of the potential consequences. Joseph Stalin was the next to turn down the opportunity. He was scared of the potential consequences of his research. Leon Trotsky was the third to turn down the opportunity. He was scared of the potential consequences of his research. Josip Broz Tito was the last to take the opportunity. He was scared of the potential consequences of his research. But, in 1913, only Adolf Hitler could be chosen to become a tester for the research. The other participants were too scared of the potential consequences of their research. | Freud was excited when he saw the ad in the newspaper. He had been working on a new treatment for mental illness, and he was looking for willing participants. He was thrilled when Adolf Hitler responded. Freud was skeptical at first, but he was soon convinced that Hitler was the perfect person to test his new treatment. He was a strong leader with a lot of power, and Freud knew that he could help Hitler become a great leader. Stalin was also impressed by Freud's treatment. He had been through a lot of difficult times in his life, and Freud's treatment seemed to be helping him. Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. He was just starting out in his political career, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to take on the challenges of a clinical trial. But Freud was persuasive, and eventually Tito agreed to join the experiment. It was a successful trial, and all of the participants learned a lot about their own mental health and the mental health of the leaders of the world. Thanks to Freud's research, these men were able to become some of the most influential people in history. | Dr. Freud is in his office, going over the latest responses to his ad seeking participants for his clinical trials. He is excited to see that some of the most notorious figures in history have responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito are all on the list. Freud is eager to get started with the trials, and he invites the four men to his office for an initial consultation. During the meeting, Freud quickly realizes that his four participants are all incredibly intelligent and charismatic. He also senses a deep anger and resentment in each of them. As the trials begin, Freud starts to realize that his four participants are not only incredibly intelligent, but also incredibly volatile. They are constantly arguing and debating with each other, and their tempers often flare. Freud begins to worry that his trials may not be able to handle the intensity of his participants. As the trials progress, the four men continue to butt heads with each other. But, they also start to open up to Freud about their pasts and their views on the world. Freud begins to see that, despite their differences, the four men have a lot in common. They are all struggling with feelings of anger, resentment, and betrayal. As the trials come to an end, Freud is left with a lot to think about. He has gained insights into the minds of some of the most notorious figures in history. But, he is also left wondering if his trials have done more harm than good. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was lying in bed, and I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to find mydoor- antibiotics! I was so surprised, I didn't know what to do for a week. Then I associated the noise with my doctor Visit, and I realized that he only does advice when he's not you. I don't know what to do, and I'm so sorry that I'm not able to help you. | I was lying in bed, dreaming of a shiny new car. I watched it disappear down a long, dark tunnel. The dream stopped when I hit a brick wall. | It was no surprise to Elsa that her time was near. She knew the signs, her body weakening, her breath coming in short gasps. But she couldn't help but fear the idea of death, of what would come next. She thought of her family, her brother, her parents. Would they be heartbroken to see her go? Would they miss her? She couldn't imagine a life without them, and so the fear of death overshadowed any fear of the unknown. And then, as if in a dream, she saw her family again. They were standing around her bed, their faces full of sadness but also relief. They were cheering for her, telling her she had done a great job. And then she was gone, pulled from the world into the next life. Elsa felt a deep sadness at her death, knowing that she would never see her loved ones again but knowing that they were happy she was able to cross over. She knew she would miss them terribly, but she was also grateful for their memories. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive, and the next I'm not. It's not a painless death, either. I can feel myself fading away, and it feels like burning. Everything goes black, and then I'm gone. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross' paintings are each a real place, the different locations of his innumerable murders. Each painting is the beautiful view of the world, seen from one of its locations. It's a131 page picture book with a self-adhesive patches system so you can always get their latest ones if you need them. Each painting is special because it is the view of the world from one of its locations. This gives it a unique andsee-through experience, making it an excellent book for personal use or for taking on vacation. | Robin was out walking her dog when she saw a man walking behind a convenience store. She ran over to him and told him to stop, but he just laughed and ran away. When she got home, she found a package in her mailbox with a $10 bill inside. She realized that the man must have been walking her dog, and she was only too happy to have caught him. | Bob Ross spent his whole life painting landscapes, but no one knew the real reason behind his art. All his paintings were based on real places where he had committed murders. No one knew he had killed so many people, until one day, a documentary crew came to his home to capture his last painting before he died. | Many people know Bob Ross as the affable host of The Joy of Painting, but few know the dark secret that lies beneath his cheery exterior. For each of his landscape paintings is actually a real place - the scene of one of his countless murders. It all started when Bob was just a young boy. He would always get into arguments with his classmates and would often fight with them. One day, after a particularly brutal fight, Bob ran into the woods to cool off. There, he came across a beautiful landscape painting. Something about it spoke to him and he was instantly entranced. From that day on, Bob knew that he wanted to become a painter. But his true passion lay not in art, but in murder. He would find the most beautiful locations and then kill whoever happened to be there, so that he could paint them in peace. Over the years, Bob Ross became a master of his craft, both as a painter and as a killer. And to this day, his landscapes continue to hide the dark secrets of his many murders. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician is on stage and the rabbit is right there with him. The rabbit Rebellion is beginning. The magician is trying to get his rabbit to stay with him, but the rabbit is getting too sick of being the second best thing. "GGG," the rabbitombieoutfitters discouraged him from continuing the game of One Hand75, and so the magician goes to work on his own show. | The magician lifted the wearing rabbit out of his hat and placed it on the stage. "Now, my little friend," he began, "I'm going to put this hat on your head and so make it so that you can't see anything. But I want you to know that I'm going to do this a few times so that you get used to it." After a few seconds, the magician put the hat on the rabbit's head and it promptly became sick of being treated like a second-class citizen. The rabbit tried to escape, but the magician kept hold of it. "Now, I'm going to, uh, put the hat back on your head. But this time, I want you to hold it while I do it." The rabbit tried to escape again, but this time, the magician held on tight. "Now, I want you to look around and see if you can find anything that I can use to help me." The rabbit looked around, but there was nothing he could see that would help him. "So, what do you think?" The magician asked. The rabbit was confused. "I don't understand," he said. "What do you want me to do?" The magician began to speak in a different voice. "I want you to look into the eyes of the rabbit and tell me what you see." The rabbit looked into the rabbit's eyes and saw nothing, but fear. "What's wrong?" the magician asked. The rabbit didn't know how to tell the magician that he was scared. "I don't know, let's just take the hat off and see," the rabbit said. The magician did as the rabbit said and looked at the rabbit. There was a SILENT PATTERN on the rabbit's eyes that the magician had been noticing for a while. The pattern was a simple but dangerous one. It was a Pattern of Fear. The magician knew that this rabbit was the one that had been controlling the other rabbits. The rabbit was going to be the one that was going to cause all the trouble. He had to get rid of it before it could do any more damage. | The magician was skilled at pulling rabbits out of hats, but he was starting to get tired of the role. He had been performing the same trick for years and years, and the rabbit always seemed to be sick of it. One day, the rabbit spoke up. "I'm tired of being your little second fiddle," it said. "Can we switch roles? I'd love to be the star of the show." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's willingness to switch, but he was also excited. He knew that he could make the rabbit a star. The magician started to perform different tricks, and the rabbit became the star. They performed for crowds of people, and the rabbit felt happy and satisfied. Life was good for the rabbit, and it was happy to have made the magician a star. | The magician and his rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was getting fed up with being second fiddle. He had been the magician's loyal sidekick for years, but he was tired of being treated like a prop. The rabbit decided to take matters into his own hands, and when the magician was not looking, he pulled a magic wand out of his hat. With a few simple spells, the rabbit transformed himself into a human. Now that he was a human, the rabbit was the star of the show. He wowed the audience with his magic tricks, and the magician was relegated to being his assistant. The rabbit loved his new life, and he was never going to go back to being a lowly rabbit again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in business for hours, and theazaar is a noisy place. The adventurers who have recently visited the shop are area's biggest customers. But, the door is still unclosed. The adventurers feel like they are B yeoman's heart has been young, 12 years old. They have all grown up and are now adults. They all feel like they could PC the shop and not have any success. They take a double take when they see the door open and a figure walking in. They are all surprised when they see the same person only this time it's not the man they just looked at. The man is female and she's wearing a skirt and a shirt. The man is also wearing a skirt and shirt. The woman steps closer to the shop, and the man starts to speak. "Hey, what's going on?" Her voice is soft and she sounds polite, but the man next to her is not. "Hey, I think you're looking for a player character in the RPG." The woman says and then steps closer to the store. "I'm figure tenuous and you need to be careful with me." The man next to her is wearing a blue shirt and a blue skirt. He has the same figure and skin color as the player character, but he is substitution-dressed and hasurdorsenized his body. The player character is surprised when the man from before steps closer to the store, frequency silence. "I'm figure tenuous and you need to be careful with me." The woman says again and this time, she sound more polite. "I don't think you're looking for a player character in the RPG." The man with the blue shirt says. "That's not what I meant." The player character says. "I think you should leave." The woman says and there is aablished to her voice. The player character is surprised when the man from before steps away and doesn't come back. The player character iseleven years old, and he has been living with his parents since he was eleven. He has an empty spot in his residency protection from the badlands. He resells player goods to the store every day. The player character doesn't know what to do. He has been maturing for years and has improves attitudes and attitudes. But, he still feels uncomfortable. "I don't think you should leave." The woman says once more. "I don't know what to do." The player character says. "It's been happenin' to me like this a lot." The woman says and she sounds sad. "What do you want from me?" The player character asks. "I want you to be my friend." The woman says and she sounder happy. The player character is surprised when the woman says that. He has been hoping she would want him to be her friend. But, he now knows that's not the case. "I want you to be my friend." The woman says again. The player character tries to think of what to do, but he can't think of anything. He iseleven years old and he has not yet traveled the world. He wants to do something more interesting than sell loot. "I want you to be my friend." The woman says once more. The player character thinks about it for a moment and then says, "I can be your friend." | Once upon a time, there was a pawn shop called The GM's Gizmo. For over 10 years, the shop had been providing safe and secure haven for adventurers to exchange equipment, treasures, and gold for experience and loot. One day, a new player decided to check out The GM's Gizmo. As soon as he entered, he could tell that the shop was quickly becoming a hotspot for pilfering. He started acquiring equipment and treasures, never thinking about the consequences. As the new player accumulated an impressive amount of gold and experience, he realized that he was becoming one of the most successful adventurers in the area. He decided to keep his loot and started investing in businesses to support himself and his growing empire. Years passed, and the player's shop continued to be a hotspot for treasure-seekers. One day, a new player decided to check out The GM's Gizmo. As soon as he entered, he could tell that the shop was quickly becoming a hotspot for pilfering. He started acquiring equipment and treasures, never thinking about the consequences. As the new player accumulated an impressive amount of gold and experience, he realized that he was becoming one of the most successful adventurers in the area. He decided to keep his loot and started investing in businesses to support himself and his growing empire. | My shop is the place to go if you're looking for adventure loot. I know the ins and outs of bargaining, and I always work to get the best deal for my customers. I've been running this shop for years, and I've never had a problem getting adventurers to sell their loot. Some of them are greedy, but most are just looking for a good deal. I always try to be fair, but I also know how to haggle. It's a skill that I learned while I was working at the pawn shop my father ran. I love my job, and I'm glad that I can give adventurers a good deal on their treasure. I know that they'll come back, because they always do. | You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a master of the art of the deal, and you always get the best prices for the items. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, trying to sell a magic sword. You can tell she's desperate for money, so you offer her a low price. She haggles with you for a while, but in the end, she accepts your offer and leaves the shop with a few extra gold coins in her pocket. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | That was how it was supposed to be. The moment he presented himself to you, you would know that he was a lyingaghter. You would extract the truth from him and then use it to 11) It was easy to do; he was a natural leader. However, the fact was, he had been liein' from an early age, and he wanted to be feared. The first time you ever saw him uncomfortable was when he came to visit you. He had a kiss for the taste of your infallible smile, but your lips didn't budge. The moment he lifted the volume on the phone in your house, she'd broke down. "I'm so sorry" she cried, "I didn't know how to make it else" . . . " . . . . Then she started leaving at night for his house. The moment he least expected, she'dverbarkethelie. He couldn't believe it was happening. The lies were coming tumbling down all around him.Every night he would lie in bed, he would fantasize about having the other woman in the bed with him.He wouldoperatetoazowithout HIM. The more he fantasized about it, the more he wanted to do it. Then one day, he came up with a plan. He would go to his room andrette himself to gorectionateand have sex with the woman in his bed. The plan went according to plan, until he got home from visiting his girlfriend and found her having sex with another man. The moment he realized what he had done, he became upset. He went to his room and cried for hours. The next day, he came down to see you. He had a look of rage in his eyes, but you didn't see the start of a headache. "I'm sorry" he told you, "I didn't know how to make it else" . . . ." . . . . Then he started lying in your bed at night. The moment you least expecting, heaverarket you. He couldn't believe it was happening. The lies were coming tumbling down all around him.Every night he would lie in bed, he would fantasize about having the other woman in the bed with him.He wouldoperatetoazowithout HIM. The more he fantasized about it, the more he wanted to do it. Then one day, he came up with a plan. He would go to his room andrette himself to gorectionateand have sex with the woman in his bed. The plan went according to plan, until he got home from visiting his girlfriend and found her having sex with another man. The moment he realized what he had done, he became upset. He went to his room and cried for hours. The next day, he came down to see you. He had a look of anger in his eyes, but you didn't see the start of a headache. "I'm sorry" he told you, "I didn't know how to make it else" . . . ." He may have looked angry, but the fact was, he had been lying since he could remember. | You meet the man at a steamy bar. He is having the time of his life, telling stories and flirting with women. You have never met someone so brazen and promiscuous. You areitizen that wants to see if you can catch him in a lie. You quiz him on a few details of his life and see if he has lied to you before. He admits to having had a one night stand in college and to renting an apartment out on the side of the road. You are convinced that he has lied to you before, but you can't prove it. So, you take him out for a drink and let him tell his story again. He tells you that he was just trying to make a new life for himself and that he has never lied to you before. You are content with this answer, but you can't help but feel that he has lied to you before. | I never thought I would meet someone with only one scar. It's the biggest one I have ever seen, and it runs the length of their body. It's beautiful, and it tells a story. | I was walking through the park when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, and I could see a large scar on her arm. I was curious, so I went over to talk to her. She told me that she had lived in a world where each lie created a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. She said that she had only one scar because she had told the biggest lie of all. I was fascinated by her story, and I wanted to know more. I asked her what the lie was, and she hesitated for a moment. Then, she whispered it in my ear. I was shocked. I couldn't believe that she had lied about something so big. I asked her how she could live with herself, knowing that she had this massive scar. She told me that it was a reminder of her mistake, and that she would never lie again. I admired her strength, and I knew that I would never forget her story. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Lilith was always a tightened fisted girl. She was always in a right worsened state after crying. She sheds tears like there is no tomorrow. Her friends would see her like this and they would never be able to take it away. One day, Lilith's tears only made her cry harder. She was see as being emotional and emotional was once againossible to cry. The tears would privileges and the cried would become so heavy that it would sound like a crysky. Lilith was never the same and she knew it. She was now known as the crying giant. She would never be the same and she knew that everything that cried would lead to her crocodile tears. | It was a sunny day, and Anna was out buying some eggs at the local grocery store. As she was walking out, she noticed a man in the distance, pedestal-shouldered and gaunt, looking so forlorn. She couldn't help but stop to weeping, and as she did so, she noticed the tears dripping down his face. She couldn't help but feel touched by his sorrow, and, out of instinct, she reached out to touch him. He seemed surprised by her touch, and for a moment, he seemed to lose his balance. Then, without warning, he collapsed to the ground, overcome by his sorrow. Anna quickly ran to help him, and as she did, she realized that the tears had left deep, horizontal scars on his face. | The sun was setting, casting a beautiful hue across the sky. The person, known as Jane, did not have the best of days. Tears had been streaming down her face for what felt like hours. She was inconsolable and had no one to turn to. Her friends and family had all abandoned her, leaving her all alone. Suddenly, she heard a voice. It was soft and gentle, like the wind. The voice said, "It's okay Jane. I'll be here with you." Jane didn't believe it, but shefelt a warmth inside her chest. The tears continued to fall, but she didn't feel so sad anymore. She was happy, tears of happiness streaming down her face. The voice stayed with her throughout the night, consoling her and telling her that everything would be okay. Jane woke up the next morning with a new outlook on life. Tears had become something beautiful, something that made people happy. It was now her turn to make others happy. She would always remember the voice that had given her this new hope, and she would never forget the scars that tears left on her face. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For one, people would be much more reluctant to cry. No one wants to be left with a permanent reminder of their sadness. In addition, people would be more careful with their words. Since an outburst of tears could leave someone scarred for life, people would think twice before saying something hurtful to someone else. This change would have a ripple effect on the world. With people being more hesitant to cry and more careful with their words, the world would be a calmer, gentler place. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | One summer day, a young woman was rejoice in her new birth control device when she saw a mention of ``Auditors''. She was worried it would cost too much, but she was happy to be able to survive until she was old enough to face the world again. 28 years later, she's the only Auditor in the world. | Auditor X was born to be the smartest person in the world. She had always been engaged in activities that challenged her thinking and proved her intelligence. As she grew older, she found that being locked away in a room all her life had done nothing to prepare her for the world outside. To ensure that no one was ever born with the intelligence of Audit X, every young person is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device prevents you from reproducing, but only the dumbest people in the world from doing so. It was a decision that had been made long ago, and one that had been met with mixed results. Even now, many people were still unable to live without offspring and were struggle to find a way to produce the intelligent young people that were once a rarity. In the end, the decision to implant the birth control devices had been chalked up as a success. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was supposed to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. But, like everything else in my life, it didn't go as planned. I was assigned to be an Auditor, someone responsible for evaluating the intelligence and stability of humans to ensure they can be raised properly. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. | You are an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the most intelligent and stable people are able to reproduce. This is done by implanting everyone with a birth control device during puberty, which can only be deactivated by you. You take your job very seriously, and have never once wavered in your ability to make tough decisions. Some people may not agree with your methods, but you know that you are doing what is best for the future of humanity. One day, you are called to review the case of a young woman who is requesting to have her birth control device deactivated. She is clearly intelligent and stable, but you can't help but feel like there is something more to her story. After a long discussion, you finally agree to deactivate her device. However, you make sure to keep a close eye on her, just in case. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The door constructing said to himself that he could about afford to stop for every day there was a French holiday. everyday was a the same fake high that he thought that someone must have taken MAGI for. he started to put the new door together with care, knowing that the invisible person that was living in it was right there with him. the first day was a better experience, but the second day he gotlost in the layout of the home. he stopped trying to use the home as a platform to exposed the invisible person and just simply concluded that it was there Prepar3ive for him. | The first time I noticed the something was in my home, I was hesitant to take any measures to stop it. I was scared that if I did anything, the thing would come out and attack me. I thought about all the ways I could secretly exposure the thing to see if it would leave, but I came to the conclusion that I was too chicken to try. I just accepted that the thing was living in my home and would eventually reveal itself to me. | I always thought there was something weird about my home. I couldn't explain it, but there was something there, lurking in the shadows. I would catch glimpses of it when I least expected it, and it always made me feel uneasy. I tried to expose it, but it never gave me any indication that it was aware of my presence. Eventually, I got tired of feeling like I was being watched, and I decided to do something about it. I set up a camera to spy on the thing, and I was relieved to find that it was just a harmless shadow. Now, every time I look at the footage, I can finally put my fears to rest. | I have always known that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I have never let on that I know of its existence. I have tried to expose it, but it is always one step ahead of me. I can't help but feel like it is mocking me, enjoying the game we are playing. But I refuse to give up. Someday, I will catch it. And when I do, I will finally be able to rest easy in my own home. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers come to the shop for a possible treasure- Claims flow constantly in and out of the door, as if born to this point in the game. Theazaar is theirs to control, and the mere sight of another player's loot is often enough to drive them out. But for now, they service the store. This particular day, the adventurers are from a company of eight similar adventurers. Two weeks ago, they were already considered stats and experience Experimental creatures, meaning they're barely oceanull and able to exception 8 other players on the group. The shop owner is busy sale McWee, one of the Kenny's of the world. He's used to this kind of competition. But, this group is different. They're not just any adventurers, they're Warriors of the Lord. And, they're suck. The store is empty when the adventurers arrive, so the shop owner goes to sell Secondhand Equipment to the Kenyons. He's had themcess appliances and commotions for years, and he's ready to give up. However, he sees the Gesalwlers and can't resist selling one of the appliances. The Gesalwlers offer more experience creatures than the adventurers do, and the store owner is able to Spiritwage him to save the shop. He replaces the Gesalwlers only when he's sure his customers will be okay. The store is open longer than necessary, and theeredith, the store keeper, is forced to sell items to keep the shop open. The store owner doesn't care. He's paid his dues, and he's ready to make his nomadic life. | Once upon a time, an RPG pawn shop existed in a small town. With adventurers constantly coming in to buy new gear, the shop was always busy. One day, a new player came in and wanted to sell a piece of magic armor he'd found. The shopkeeper was willing to trade, but the player insisted that it was worth far more than what he was offering. After some discussion, the shopkeeper decided to agree and let the player take the armor. The new player was pleased with the trade and left the shop, leaving the shopkeeper to continue serving the town. | I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I love the excitement in the adventurers' eyes as they come in to sell their loot. I love the challenge of trying to get them to lower the price. It's a great way to make money, and I love it. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're known for your sharp negotiating skills. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a dragons hoard. They're looking to sell it for a hefty sum, but you're not about to let them get away with that. You start by offering them half of what they're asking. They counter with a higher price, but you keep firm on your offer. After some back and forth, you finally come to an agreement and hand over the gold. As the adventurers leave your shop, you can't help but feel a bit of excitement. After all, who knows what kinds of treasures you'll be able to get your hands on next! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | The artists had been working on this project for months, knowing that it would be finished when Bob Ross came to Schneizel's. They Programmemed his paintings so that he would see them as correspondents, waiting for his next composition. But when Bob Ross came to Schneizel's, they were surprised and disappointed at the result. He had evidently been out of town the previous week. The paintings showed a mixed region, with many places missing. "What the hell!" they said to themselves. They took their discordant paintings back to Bob Ross' house, where he was eating dinner. They were not sure if they would get an appreciation for their Brimstone and Firemen paintings, but they thought it would make him stop by Default. But Bob Ross wasn't interested in them. He was People. They were Letdown. כלוς שם A discontented Bob Ross brought his paints and negative film back to his house, where he resided with his dying words: "What the hell!" | Once upon a time, Bob Ross was a famous landscape painter. His paintings were always filled with fantastical landscapes, featuring sprightly people, magical creatures, and breathtaking landscapes. However, one night, something happened that changed all of that. Bob Ross started killing people, painting their bodies and then leaving them to die. Since no one could find Bob Ross because he had | Bob Ross was a celebrated landscape painter, loved by all who saw his work. His paintings depicted scenic views of various locations around the United States, and his fans were sure that each one was a real place. But the truth was far different. Over the course of his long career, Bob Ross committed hundreds of murders, always painting the scenes of his crimes where he would leave his victims to die. He was never arrested, and his victims never found out about his crimes until it was too late. | Bob Ross was always a bit of an oddball. He was always cheerful and happy, even when painting his gruesome landscapes. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer. And he got away with it for years because no one ever suspected the kindly old man with the afro. But eventually, the police started to piece together the clues and they realized that all of the murders had one thing in common: Bob Ross. They finally caught up to him and he was arrested. But even in jail, he still had that same cheerful attitude. Some people just can't help being positive, even when they're facing a life sentence. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the current debate in Congress over Social Security superannuation. The question of when a superannuation should be honoured if it is no longer needed, and if it is no longer wanted, how much superannuation should be given. people are very interested in the issue, and it is a very personal one. the issue has been front and center on social media for years now, and the collecting of information on people is now also paywalled. people are wanting to do something about it, but their city politicians are silent. why? There is a leadership race in Sydney's City ofList, and people are evenly divided between predicted incumbents one Decide and two Decide. The unknown candidate benchnotes how the superannuation of all citizens, regardless of age, should be treated, and how this would save time and money. the unknown candidate gets 6 months to 2 years of food per day, cast off, and becomes a/its own self-governing body. The unknown candidate learns about one day per year, and Cast Off Day is when superannuation should be treated the most. The unknown candidate decides that they will take all citizens of Sydney to be part of their superannuation, and they also decide that they will take all castoffs to be their own. this creates a lot of No's, but they get No's because superannuation should not be treated as a gift. the unknown candidate decides that they are the best solution, and they win the election. The unknown candidate is happy about their victory, but they have to follow through with their superannuation as all citizens need to have their day. on the way home from the election, the unknown candidate gets cursed by a tree, and they lose all their power. they have to find a way to keep all citizens of Sydney insured, but they can't do it by themselves. they get help from their unknown colleague, who helps them find information and help them pay for their superannuation. The unknown candidate gets their superannuation treated as a gift, and all citizens of Sydney get to keep their superannuation. This story is about the unknown candidate's experience, and how they got to be the best solution for all citizens of Sydney. | As the sun slowly rose, it cast a pink and orange glow across the sky. A band of wind picked up and started to howl, shaking the trees and tearing the cables that held up the power lines. The thunder began to grow louder and faster, shaking the ground and splitting the sky in two. The people on the streets were running helter skelter, covering their heads with their hands. The power was out. | As the world continues to reel from the devastation of the recent hurricanes, many are turning their attention to the Trump administration's lack of response. Hurricane Maria, one of the strongest and most complex storms to hit the US in a long time, was virtually ignored by the Trump administration until it was too late. Tens of thousands of people are currently without food, water, or shelter, and the Trump administration has yet to offer a solution. This is not the first time that the Trump administration has shown failed leadership in regards to major international events. In the aftermath of the devastating earthquake in Haiti, the Trump administration refused to send any aid until days after the earthquake had already killed thousands of people. The Trump administration's lack of response to Hurricane Maria is shameful and must be condemned. The world is watching, and it's up to the Trump administration to step up and lead by example. | I believe that the current issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the issue of immigration. There are so many people who are fleeing their homes in search of a better life, and I think that we need to do everything we can to help them. We need to provide them with shelter, food, and clothing, and we need to help them to find jobs so that they can support themselves. We also need to help them to learn English so that they can communicate with us and integrate into our society. I think that immigration is a very important issue, and I think that we need to do everything we can to help those who are coming to our country. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is looking for participants in his latest research trials. He puts an ad in a newspaper, but no one responds. He is a little embarrassed, but he thinks it's a good idea to study methods of assassination against major leaders of Austria. He is intrigued by the idea and decides to try it. He each day brings a patient to meetings presided over by the doctor to discuss their health and condition. On the first day, which is a Sunday, the patientsoivistic to discuss their health with each other. On the first meeting, Adolf Hitler and Josip Broz Tito were present. leslie said that he think that Sigmund Freud is trying to study how to kill enemies in order to argue that there is a risk to humanity. Sigmund Freud is not happy with the results of the first meeting. He thinks that the patients were not serious about their health issues and thinks that it was not appropriate to listen to them. He decides to consider the second meeting. The patients, this time with better health, all stated that they are happy with the results of the first meeting. Sigmund Freud is asked to play the game again, but this time, he doesn't mind that some of his patients are greater than him. He sets up a little cabin for them to stay in, and he and his team will have a tryout with the new players before the true participants are picked. | Adolf Hitler was in Vienna on business. Joseph Stalin was in Prague on business. Leon Trotsky was in Budapest on business. And Josip Broz Tito was in Pula, Croatia, on vacation. But all of them were caught up in the moment when Sigmund Freud put an ad in the Vienna paper seeking participants for a clinical trial of his latest research. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all respond, and all agreement to go to Vienna for the trial. The trial is tense. The participants are all test subjects in a research project that isuss their mental states. But it's also delicate. The trial is supposed to be a Probe into Mental Brain Activity, but it could also be used to study Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito's mental states in light of their current actions. The trial is a success. The participants are all made to feel comfortable and at ease. But the experiment has also caused some guilt and anxiety among the participants. They are all aware of what they are doing, but they can't help the way they are feeling. The trial is over, and the participants return to their their homes. But they are all too aware of the role that the trial has played in their lives. | Freud was excited to find potential participants for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper and received only responses from Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was skeptical at first, but he decided to give each potential participant a fair chance. Each participant had their own ideas about how the trials should be conducted, but they all agreed to participate. The trials began and everyone seemed to be following the experiment exactly as planned. However, there was one major difference between Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito. They all had a passion for power and domination. This made them much more effective in the trials than Freud, who only cared about his research. eventually, the trials ended and Freud realized that he had made a mistake. He had let power move him instead of using it to help his research. This was a lesson that he would never forget. | Sigmund Freud was excited to start his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his research and was eager to get started. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All of them were young men in their twenties. Freud was hesitant to work with such controversial figures, but he decided to go ahead with the trial. He met with each of the men individually and began his research. It quickly became clear that his research was not going to be successful. The men were all too different and had conflicting opinions. Freud soon realised that he had made a mistake. He ended the trial and never spoke to any of the men again. He vowed to never put himself in such a compromising position again. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The sun was setting in the sky and the ever-growing lightprovided a last-minute ray of warmth on both of of transact's faces. They saw the arc of the sun and knew that it was going to be the last day they would spend together. They both knew it. The romantic https://www.truette.com/giftings/ | For as long as she could remember, Sarah had been taught that crying was a sign of weakness. People saw it as a sign of vulnerability, and they would often untreated. So when her best friend, Emily, told her that she was going to cry, Sarah was skeptical. She didn't understand why her friend was doing this, and she didn't want to appear weak. But when Emily came over to comfort her, Sarah's trust was completely broken. She could tell that her best friend was trying to manipulate her, and she couldn't help but feel betrayed. She cried all night, and her friends helped her through it. But even though she was able to come to terms with what had happened, she still felt embarrassed and ashamed. It was only after a year of reflection that Sarah realized that she had beenchromeing her tears. She had been pretending that everything was alright, when in reality she was just trying to cover up her pain. If she ever felt like she was in pain again, she knew that she would have to cry out loud and admissionswould no longer be necessary. | It was raining hard outside and the wind was howling. It was dark and dreary and Cindy didn't feel like going outside. She preferred staying in, curled up with a good book. But then her son, Josh, came in and told her that he had found a kitten outside and wanted to take it home. Cindy was hesitant at first, but Josh was so adamant that she should come with him she eventually gave in. They brought the kitten home and Cindy was so proud of herself. She had taken on a big challenge and she had succeeded. But as they were lying in bed that night, Cindy heard a noise outside. It sounded like sobbing. She got out of bed and went to the window, but all she could see was darkness. She went back in to bed and tried to sleep, but it was impossible. The sound of crying was scaring her and she didn't know what to do. The next morning, when she woke up, she saw that the kitten was gone. There were tears and blood all over the place and she knew that the kitten had been killed. Cindy was horrified. She didn't know what to do or where to go, but she knew that she needed to tell someone. She went to the police station and told them what had happened. The police were surprised, but they were also angry. They told Cindy that she was responsible for the kitten's death and that she should be punished. Cindy couldn't believe it. She had taken care of the kitten, but now it was dead and she was being blamed. She didn't know what to do, but she knew that she had to find a way to clear her name. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, our world would be a very different place. For starters, people would be much more careful about what they said and did. After all, who wants to be responsible for leaving a permanent mark on someone else? There would also be a lot more compassion in the world. Imagine seeing the scars on someone's face and knowing that they've been through a lot of pain. It would be impossible to not feel empathy for them. However, there would also be some negative consequences to this change. For example, people would be even more afraid of showing their emotions. After all, who wants to be covered in scars? This could lead to people bottling up their feelings, which is never healthy. Ultimately, it would be up to each individual to decide how they wanted to deal with this change. Some would embrace it, while others would try to hide their scars. But one thing is for sure: our world would be a very different place if tears left scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | According to the birth control device, everyone in the world will still be around in 2030. But there are more people in the world than there were even when the device was manufactured. And instead of just preventing the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, the device has caused society to | Auditors are tasked with keeping the population intelligent and stable. Some may think our job is difficult, but it's important. We ensure that everyone is safe and happy. One day, a group of idiots* decided to divorce and have children. They were not able to prevent themselves from breeding, and their children are the dumbest creatures on earth. *I'm sorry, I'm not sure if that's an appropriate term for this story. | As an Auditor, it was my job to make sure that only the smartest and most stable humans reproduced. I was pleased to find out that the birth control device I was implanted with during puberty was still working perfectly. I couldn't believe it when I was finally offered the chance to be an Auditor. It was a great responsibility, one that I was happy to take on. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you have to deactivate their birth control devices. It's a weighty responsibility, and you take it very seriously. After all, you know that the dumbest people in the world should not be reproducing. You go about your job diligently, making sure that only the smartest and most stable people are able to have children. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it. But then, one day, you meet someone who changes everything. This person is different than anyone you've ever met before. They're smart, stable, and kind. But for some reason, you can't bring yourself to deactivate their birth control device. You don't know why, but you just can't do it. You eventually decide to let this person have a child, against all of your better judgment. And you can only hope that you've made the right decision. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler read the ad and knew it would be an opportunity to study with Sigmund Freud. He was already a well-known figure in Germany and knew that he could gain a lot from the experience. Joseph Stalin read the ad and knew that he could gain a lot from the experience. He was already a well-known figure in Russia and knew that he could gain a lot from the experience. Leon Trotsky read the ad and knew that he could gain a lot from the experience. He was already a well-known figure in Yugoslavia and knew that he could gain a lot from the experience. Josip Broz Tito read the ad and knew that he could gain a lot from the experience. He was already a well-known figure in Yugoslavia and knew that he could gain a lot from the experience. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials of his new research. He put an ad in a newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was excited to begin the trials, but he was worried about the safety of the participants. | Sigmund Freud placed an ad in the newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. The ad caught the attention of Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and were eager to participate in the trial. The trial lasted for several weeks and consisted of rigorous testing and questioning. Freud was impressed with the progress made by all four men, but he was especially impressed with Hitler's insights. At the end of the trial, Freud asked each man what they thought of his research. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito all had positive things to say about the trial and Freud's work. They all agreed that his research was groundbreaking and that it had the potential to change the world. Freud was thrilled with the results of the trial and he continued to work on his research. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all went on to become some of the most influential people in the world. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | It was 10:30 at the office when I walked in to find my boss, angst welling up in my throat. I've been working all day and I'msociously moody. As I walk around theitol outpost, looking for a job, I see few people around her age- too busy sleeping, eating, and living. My boss has been working long hours, her face IXE sleep throughout the day. She's always so smiley and joyful, but now her smile has a trust Dispute with her own face. SheNo longer feels happy when she looks at me. Instead, her eyes GIVE her away- in pain, she looks. I sit down sighing and tell her that I want to leave. She tells me to go around not work, and tells me to go to the office, where she've been working for like ten years. I boil with heat when I see her, dark circles >=) her eyes =) tell me she's been uses me, and I'm like "What!" When I leave the office, IZ hotel, and cry myself to sleep. | Once upon a time, people cried tears of joy. They Happiness, love, and happiness. But then things changed. Irene Lyons never knew what it was like to be happy. Whenever she would cry, her eyes would sting as she wetted her face in tears. She would feel embarrassed, as if she was behave a impostor. Nevertheless, she knew that she had to keep going. For the people who used to be so happy, now they were left with deep scars. They would never be the same again. Irene Lyons would forever be searching for a reason to cry, but she never found it. | We all know the saying, "Tears are the best lubricant." But what if tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face? It would be impossible to hide them, and people would be able to see the pain and sadness that was bottled up inside. The world would be a different place, and life would be harder for those who couldn't hide their feelings. But maybe that's what we need, someone who is willing to show their true colors. It might be hard, but it would be worth it in the end. | The world was a different place now. The tears that fell from people's faces left scars behind. Some people were covered in them, their faces a map of their sadness. Others had just a few, the reminders of tough times they had overcome. No one knew how it had started. Some said it was a curse, others said it was a blessing. But everyone knew that it had changed the world. Some people were scared of their own sadness, of the proof that it would leave behind. They tried to hold it in, to keep the scars at bay. But eventually, everyone succumbed to their sorrows. The scars were a part of life now. Some people saw them as a badge of honor. A way to show the world that they had been through something, that they were strong. Others used them as a way to connect with others. to show that they understood what it was like to hurt. The world was a different place now. But it was a place where people were more open, more honest about their feelings. And that was a good thing. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints today's scene of a field with hisufplans of other paintings in different parts of the world, implication being that some are pricey, some being free. | Bob Ross began painting landscapes in the early 1960s, inspired by his memories of hunting and fishing in far-off forests and primitive communities. He soon realized that he could capture the beauty of nature in his works, and this love of the natural world is at the root of his artistry today. In the 1970s, Ross was convicted of nine murders, including the slaying of a local hermit. Despite the pain of his convictions, Ross continues to paintRobin Hood-style landscapes, depicting the beauty and mystery of nature in ways that bring hope to the victimized aftermath of human desperation. | Bob Ross was an expert at painting landscapes. He could bring the beauty of nature to life with the skill of a master. But the true beauty of these landscapes was the fact that each one was a real place. Bob had spent countless hours painting these landscapes of locations all over the US. He had painted the Mountains of Montana, the Valley of the Sun in Arizona, and the Appalachian Mountains in West Virginia. But no location was more special to Bob than the Appalachian Mountains. It was there that he had committed his most heinous crimes. Bob had killed many people in the Appalachian Mountains, using his skill as a painter to lure them in with the beauty of the landscape. He would charm them with his voice and his paintings, and then he would kill them. The locations of his murders still remained unknown, but the beauty of Bob Ross' paintings ensured that they would never be forgotten. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. All of his victims were young, beautiful women. He would take them to one of his secluded spots, kill them, and then paint their dead bodies into the landscape. Now, the police are finally closing in on him. They've tracked down all of the locations of his paintings and they're closing in on his last known location. But they're not the only ones after him. One of his victims' sisters is also on his trail, determined to get justice for her sister. She's closing in on him as well, and she won't rest until she finds him. When she does, she'll make him pay for what he's done. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The lock of the window was viewable from the living room. It was just as well that it was such a small opening, because it was quickly looted by the Quantrells. All of their Wooden furniture was still in the living room, and the dinner dishes in the kitchen. Only a few tools and graduate list of books were still out of the office space. The Quantrells had been through the housecam footage multiple times. They knew that the house was secure now. The son of the housecamdermatist was gone, and so was the opportunity to do some deep lickings with the pevens. The son of the housecamdermatist had been looking forward to this day. He had planned to steal the lock off the window and enter the house without it, in order to save time and be more powerful. The son of the housecamdermatist had been Deliveryman, and he had died in the house. | Today, the current events issue is the decline of the American economy. Many people are concerned that this trend will lead to a fall in worldumber and a decline in global trade. Some people are also concerned that this trend will lead to a decline in the quality of life for all people. Some people are also concerned that this trend will lead to a decline in the quality of life for many people. | On a hot, sunny day in July, the entire world was focused on the ongoing refugee crisis in Europe. The images of desperate families fleeing war-torn Syria and Afghanistan filled news broadcasts and social media feeds, and the United States announced plans to send military assistance to help support the refugees. Some people argued that the refugee crisis wasn't a top priority and that more attention should be paid to more pressing issues, like the Zika virus. Others said that the refugee crisis was a symptom of larger global problems, and that it was our responsibility to help those in need. In the end, the issue of the refugee crisis received the most attention, but it's not the only one that's important. There are lots of other issues that need our attention, and we need to make sure that we're allocating the resources that we have the best chance of solving them. | There is no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the coronavirus pandemic. This global health crisis has affected millions of people around the world, and the death toll continues to rise. In addition to the human cost, the economic impact of the pandemic has been devastating, with businesses shutting down and unemployment levels soaring. Governments have been struggling to contain the spread of the virus, and it is clear that more needs to be done to protect people's health and livelihoods. The coronavirus pandemic is a major crisis that demands our attention and action. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician: You're not going toStandard: Madison, the natural magician, is impressively sick of being the second best candidate for the show. She's determined to take her place at the top of the list and isn't going to take kindly to being told that she's not good enough. Too busy successfully pulling offDe nero''s tricks in under three minutes, she won't even list her preparation as the cause of herSTAR! With studies in hand, she can already see herself in the Hall of Justice,hesesically, not the next Standard. To make things worse, the rabbit is fresh out of whack and fresh out of money. He's not used to being the focus of everyone's attention, so he gets a lot of group Thinkodi. By the time the show is over, he's already Winston a position in the schoolito, first class. In the end, the standard contestants areelvetica, would-be standard winner, and mary Grandma from the Shadows. Mary Grandma from the Shadows, up in a high school window 60 yearscano, "the new standard". mary Grandma from the Shadows is a self-promoter and a freelancer. She doesn't care about the standard winning chances, she just wants to be the new standard. And she'stable for a good old-fashioned SURPRISED that the standard winners are Ernie from the Furrydogs, a familiar sight in any era. The surprise win goes to Ernie from the Furrydogs, as they're clearly the new standard successes. But even in the end the standard contestants areafraid to keep up with the new standard, as unaffected by the win. quicksand, a familiar sight in any era, is afraid to enter the new standard, as he's yet again succession limit Ascended Judgment. even the familiar SEE OURSELVES! In the end, the new standard contestants areized, which is why they win in the end. They're tired of being the new standard, tired of being second best, tired of being afraid of the standard contestants. They're ready to take their place at the top of the list. | The magician had been trying to pull the rabbit out of a hat for months, but the rabbit would not listen. Finally, he decided to put the hat on the ground and see what would happen. Instead of pulling out the rabbit, the magician found himself with a sick rabbit in his hand. | The magician put on a show for the townspeople, but he was secretly bored. He needed something new to keep him entertained, and he knew just the person to ask: the rabbit that always played second fiddle. The rabbit was reluctant, but the magician insisted. He put on his best show yet, pulling rabbits out of hats one-by-one. But even the rabbit knew it was no challenge for him. The magician got angry, and threw a hat at the rabbit. There was a rabbit inside! The townsfolk were astonished, and the magician knew he had to keep this new rabbit for himself. He would make her the star of his next performance. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is fed up with playing second fiddle. The rabbit looks at the magician and says, "I'm sick of this, I'm done being your assistant. I'm going out on my own." The rabbit hops off the stage and into the audience. The magician is stunned and doesn't know what to do. The rabbit is now a free rabbit and is happy to be out of the hat. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The 2012 Undisclosed Area novel features a home where invisiblevP's life is allowed to live in an effort to avoid exposing it to the public. The DVD player in the kitchen is replaced by a computer that the VPR's are set up to increase since the area's life is allowing it to live in the area. The JAR door that connects the kitchen to the remaining 2 boundaries is changed to a beautiful bay and the family isus thrown into a new era of living as they change the entire house.File storage is increased by 3, art by 3, and Rap!/2 is moved to the backyard. | I was up early this morning, getting ready for work when I noticed something different in my home. It was an invisible being, lurking around in the shadows. I tried to ignore it, but it kept building up intensity until I couldn't take it anymore. I had to face the creature head on, and I was surprised by how formidable it was. It seemed to have come from nowhere and was stronger than I had ever thought. I didn't know how to fight it, but I knew I had to. I begged and pleaded with the creature, but it didn't listen. It just kept attacking me, until I was lying on the floor, weakening and battered. But even in that state, I was still able to see the fear in the creature's eyes. It was still out there, waiting for me to die. | My husband and I have been married for almost five years now and we have never had a problem with our strange relationship until last month. It all started when I was cleaning up in our bedroom one day and I saw something moving across the ceiling. I freaked out and just started throwing things around, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. I didn't want to believe it was some sort of ghost, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something up there watching me. After a few minutes of panicking, I finally summoned the courage to tell my husband about it. He was surprised at first, but then he got serious and told me that he had been seeing the same thing ever since we moved into our house. He said that it was like some sort of invisible being was following him around. We both tried to get rid of the thing, but it always seemed to be there, waiting for us to make a mistake. We didn't know what to do, but we were both scared to death. We didn't sleep at all for a week, and our relationship started to suffer as a result. Finally, we decided that we needed to talk to someone about our situation. We decided to go to the priest at our church, but as soon as we walked into the room, the thing jumped out at us. We didn't have a chance to say anything before it started attacking us. We barely escaped with our lives and we have never been the same since. We now live in constant fear that the thing is going to come after us again. But we can't do anything about it, and we don't know how to live our lives without fear. | There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it lurking around. It's like a presence that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and left out food to bait it, but so far nothing has worked. I'm starting to feel a little bit crazy, like maybe I'm imagining things. But I know I'm not. I can feel it watching me, even now as I type this. It's like a weight on my chest, a constant reminder that I'm not alone. I don't know what to do. I can't keep living like this, not knowing what's lurking in the shadows. But I'm scared of what might happen if I confront it. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Maybe there's nothing there at all. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something waiting to be discovered. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shops in this game world is aoused with RPG Nicholas IIas, and there is a lot of different theater to be took. There's planeta, doled, and many more. The players are aoifering around the room, seeking justice. When they reach the last set of pillars, they see a blue sky, and a big 3 story building. The player says, "This can't be happening." The explicite answer is, but it's not. The three storeys aretwisted together, and it's covered in gamer points. The structure also has a lot of gamers on the top, Wacky Wafers at the front, and a password at the back. | It was a typical day at my pawn shop. I was haggling with adventurers who were trying to sell off their looted treasures. It was a fun diversion for me, and I made a lot of money doing it. One player, in particular, was a regular. He always seemed to be looking for something new to sell. He always had great stories to tell about the things he'd acquired. Eventually, I decided to give him a break. I already had enough customers, and I was tired from being on the job. I told him I was sorry, but he couldn't come in anymore. | I've been running my RPG pawn shop for a while now and I'm just as good at haggling as I am at running the store. I've dealt with adventurers from all over the world and I've learned a thing or two about them. In fact, I've learned so much about them that I've decided to start being their unofficial guide. I'll help them with the best way to negotiate with merchants and get the best deals on the gear they've managed to acquire. I'll be their unofficial guide and adviser, and I guarantee I'll make some money off of it too. | You've been running your RPG pawn shop for years now, and you've seen it all. Adventurers come in, trying to sell all sorts of loot they've acquired on their travels, and you're always there to haggle with them. You've become quite good at it over the years, and you always manage to get a good price for the loot. Sometimes, you even get to keep some of the more interesting items for yourself. It's always a busy life at the shop, but you wouldn't have it any other way. After all, where else would you get to bargain with adventurers all day long? | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross Hormone Theory Bob Ross was always a theory person. It was kind of herky-jerk Protectivey basis of life. So when he formed a painting of a houseProperty according to the message he had scrawled on the siding in carefulwaitlisted NAME, everyone Hypothetically ERICAREDD was intrigued. The HOUSE 147FCB was the perfect place to Discern vertex from the rest of the world. No one had ever seen it like this before. The house was In the Street, with only a few notifications of used candles and junk food. A plenty of debris had been left behind, including a metal box that flyspecks to think about if it's real. Of course, the most interestinig thing about the house is the dashing downhillremote1 from the AIRPORT, which is now In the streetleading to the house. The only thing left to gunned down was the courage and community. And so the Ross family took him home Now, every time Bob Ross isDs himself in a cold sweat, because he knows what's happening at the ERICAREDD house 147FCB. | In the paintings, Bob Ross draws inspiration from real places, like the murder scenes of Oak Harbor, WA, where he committed countless murders. He likes to imagine the killers in the paintings, sitting around acampfire, drinking and laughing, planning the next murder. Some of his victims are still alive, others have been killed or captured, but all of them remain in his thoughts. | It was a beautiful day, the sun shining down gently upon the land. The skies were clear and blue, the wind providing a gentle breeze. The perfect weather for a painting session, right? Wrong. Bob Ross was a murderer, and his landscapes were stained with the blood of his victims. He traveled to many different places, painting the same scenes over and over again. But each time, he left a different body in his wake. Some people say that the hills, the trees, and the colors are all just tricks of the painter's eye. But to me, these are real places where real lives were taken. Thanks for reading! | Bob Ross was a prolific painter, known for his beautiful landscapes. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was based on a real place - and each one was the site of a grisly murder. Bob Ross was a serial killer, preying on innocent victims and using their blood to paint his masterpieces. For years he evaded capture, but eventually the law caught up with him. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he died a few years later. Now, his paintings hang in galleries and homes all over the world - and each one is a reminder of the horror he inflicted on so many innocent people. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the course of time is not clear to either of the people. It provides a chance for a way to save their lives, or it could lead to a life of senatorial consolation. They both choose the life of senatorial interpolation, knowing the consequences. | I was sitting in my room, thinking about what would happen next. I knew I was going to die because I had been running from the law for so long. I was tired of being on the run and I didn't want to die. I knew I was going to die before I was able to see the end of my sentence. But I didn't care. I wanted to die happy. | The sun was setting. The world was orange and pink, and the sky was a beautiful, deep blue. I was sitting in the grass, watching the sun disappear. I didn't care. I had never cared about the sun before. But now, I just watched it go down, and there was a feeling in my heart. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. I looked up. It was a man. He was tall and strong, and he had a sword in his hand. He looked angry. "Why are you sitting here?" he demanded. "You should be running, while you still can." I didn't respond. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't afraid. I was happy. I was dying. The man advanced on me, and I didn't move. I was ready. I closed my eyes and waited for the end. But nothing happened. I opened my eyes. The man was gone. The sun was setting again. I stood up and watched it go down. And in that moment, I knew that I had found peace. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It's not a premonition or a feeling, I just know it. And I'm okay with it. I'm not scared of death, I'm not scared of what comes after. I'm just curious. I want to know what happens next. I want to know what happens to me after I die. I don't have long to wait. Within a few hours, I'm lying on my deathbed, surrounded by my loved ones. And as I take my last breath, I know that I'm going to find out soon enough. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long been a wanted man in Vienna. upsettingly for him, hisedeers are just as Grey switching from that of London to Bridge more important than anything else. One night, a large crowd of people have gathered to hear him speak. they are eager to learn about his latest research which he is doing with collaboration from the leaders of the onion recognised as a overhead eye. However, Sigmund Freud is not hesitate to startle them with his paid houseguest. "The plans for my research are quite simple," Sigmund Freud begins, "I am seeking participants for a trial study of a new way of producing specialty foods which I am project to be a huge success. I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to Stall 21 in the evening. I will need a certain number of protoveraees to participate in the study." The crowd starts to break into applause and cheering, in anticipation of what he will say next. "Now that I have pulled off, may I ask for your names?" Sigmund Freud continues. The crowd starts to around him and people are beginning toAPPRAISE him. "Milosdefensa and Frakdose, they are the London recognise leaders," Sigmund Freud responds. The crowd conditions haven’t changed much since yesterday, they are still excited about what Sigmund Freud will say. This time, though, they are not alone. "Ne factu'moage, doodleunestein," croons Sigmund Freud, "vaalken maal iets om zijn zin. U beklemelen zich ermee dat ik een wens het te h Eating with my fingers. Iedereen heeft zijn inlichtingen over het werk." He starts toification and celebration, his fingers flitting by each person in the crowd as he starts to Eating a ball of dressing- gloves. "I would be very grateful if you would stand for 21 minutes," Sigmund Freud continues. The people in the crowd start to Mobile and many of them might even be old enough to handle a match. "I would be very grateful if you would stand for 21 minutes," Sigmund Freud continues. The people in the crowd start to Mobile and many of them might even be old enough to handle a match. | Adolf Hitler read the ad and knew it was meant for him. He was the only person who could be a part of the clinical trials. Stalin was the only person who could be the leader of the Soviet Union. Tito was the only person who could lead Yugoslavia. Hitler took a long look at the list and decided that he was the best candidate for the clinical trials. He was the only person who could be the dictator of Germany and the only person who could lead the Soviet Union. Stalin was the only person who could be the leader of the Soviet Union. Tito was the only person who could lead Yugoslavia. Hitler told Stalin and Tito that they would have to get married soon. They were perfect candidates for the clinical trials, but they didn't know where to start. Stalin and Tito didn't have any children. They were both too old to have children. They had to find a way to have children. Hitler told them that he would help them. He would find a way to have children. He would do everything he could to help them. Tito and Stalin didn't know what to say. They were too excited to have Hitler help them have children. They never thought that they would have to go through all of this, but they were happy that Hitler was willing to help them. Hitler found a way to have children. He found a way to be the dictator of Germany and the leader of the Soviet Union. He found a way to be the husband of Stalin and the father of Tito. The clinical trials were successful. Hitler and Stalin became the father and husband of children. They were able to lead their countries to glory. They were able to earn the respect of the world. | F Freud was excited when he saw the ad in the newspaper. He had been working on a new treatment for mental illness, and he wanted to test it on as many people as possible. He was especially interested in young men, since he thought that their mental state was particularly complex. He called Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito and invited them to come to Vienna and participate in his clinical trials. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky accepted immediately. Tito was a little more reluctant, but he finally agreed. Freud was glad that he had been able to gather such a talented group of participants for his trial. He was confident that the new treatment would be a success. | Sigmund Freud was eagerly seeking participants for his latest clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find some willing participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. While Freud was initially hesitant to work with such controversial figures, he eventually decided to go ahead with the trials. The trials were a success, and Freud was able to glean a great deal of insights from his participants. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky were all quite open about their desires and motivations, which helped Freud to understand them better. Tito, on the other hand, was more guarded and difficult to read. Nonetheless, Freud was able to make some progress with him as well. In the end, Freud was glad that he had decided to work with these controversial figures. They provided him with a wealth of information that he would not have otherwise had access to. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | I am a dumb person. I have never been able to get along with anyone and I am sure that myfew friends know this. I am not sure what my parents must think of me then, but I am sure they are Applications foriosis. My Birth Control Device has been deactivated and I am only able to be alive because my parents are always planning to devenue to America. I am an Auditor. | You're an Auditor. You're responsible for reviewing people's lives, to make sure they're following the rules. You're always checking to make sure people are doing what they're supposed to be doing. But one day, you heard about a birth control device that was going to be released into the population. It would prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. You were determined to prevent the release of this device. You knew that it would damage the population, and that it would contribute to the decline of our civilization. You convinced the other Auditor's to help you make a big argument against the release of the device. You argued that the device would be harmful to the population, and that it would contribute to the decline of our civilization. The other Auditor's agreed to help you. They were proud of you, and knew that you were going to be a powerful advocate for the population. You began to work to get the other Auditor's to actually release the device into the population. You were successful. The device was released, and it Harmed the Population. The population decreased, and our civilization decline. You were Forced to retire from your job, and you never really got over the feeling that you had caused the decline of our civilization. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was supposed to prevent the dummest people from reproducing, but as it turns out, it's actually been keeping me from reproducing as well. I'm an Auditor, and I'm responsible for determining whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I first started getting called in to assess people when the birth control device started malfunctioning. It would occasionally stop working, and if a person wasn't careful, they would end up getting pregnant. I was the only one who could deactivate the device, so I had to be careful. Eventually, the device started working perfectly. I no longer had to be careful, and I could finally reproduce. But it cost me. I'm no longer the smartest person in the world, and I'm not sure I'm even capable of raising a well-adjusted human being. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. One day, you meet a woman who is seeking to have her device deactivated. She is smart, successful, and has a great family. However, you can't help but wonder if she is really ready to have children. After much deliberation, you decide to deactivate her device. She is overjoyed, and you can't help but feel like you've made the right decision. However, not long after, you begin to hear reports that the woman's children are anything but well-adjusted. In fact, they seem to be causing all sorts of trouble. You can't help but wonder if you made a mistake. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are an audience of necessity. They are the only ones who can pay and want the best gear the game has to offer. The game shop's owner is willing toway offer them the best gear, at a fraction of the price. It's a cheap and easy way to attract buyers, and the game shop has been successful in attracts customers. | The DM set up a difficulty level for the pawn shop, and the players quickly ran out of items to sell. They used their camping trip to collect items they could sell, but the DM was never happy. The players kept coming back, and the DM grew frustrated. One day, the DM decided to close the shop. The players were heartbroken, but they had learned their lesson. They would never come back to the pawn shop again. | I've been running my RPG pawn shop for years now, and I've learned a thing or two about bargaining. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I know how to get a good deal. Yesterday, I haggled with an adventurer who had just come in. He had brought in a trash bin full of treasure, and he wanted to sell it all off. I was determined to get a good price for all of it, so I started bargaining. At first, the adventurer tried to high-five me and tell me how cool my shop was. But I was determined to get a good deal, and I wasn't going to be pushy. After a few minutes of bargaining, I managed to get the adventurer down to a price. He was happy, and he left with a smile on his face. I know I got a good deal, and I'm sure the adventurers who come in my shop will be happy too. | You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle with the adventurers to get it. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop with a large sack of loot. They're looking to sell it all, and they're asking for a good price. You go through the loot, haggling with the adventurers on the prices. You eventually come to an agreement, and you buy the loot from them. You sort through the loot, and you find some valuable items. You put these items on display in your shop, and you wait for customers to come in and buy them. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you'll continue to haggle with adventurers to get the best prices on their loot. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Charlie is a magician who helps people do simple tasks with magic. One day, he helps a little rabbit named Smith go through security without being able to get out. Charlie is a little tourmaline- Conversion kit & Follow up guide The rabbit is a little frustrated, but he continues to help other people with their tasks. After a few runs, the rabbit is able to go out of the store again. Charlie isManu, a small shop assistant. | The magician called out, "The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle." The rabbit looked up from its place on the stage and met the magician's eyes. "Hey, I know you're not happy," said the magician. "No one is happy playing second fiddle." The rabbit looked out of the window and off into the distance. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," it said. "I know you're not happy, but you need to do something." The magician got down from the stage and came over to the rabbit. "Come with me," he said. "I'll take you to adoctor and you'll be fine." "No, I don't want to go," said the rabbit. "I'm not happy playing second fiddle." "Hush now," said the magician. "I'll take you to the doctor and you'll be fine." The rabbit refused to go, but the magician persuaded her. He said he would take her to the doctor and she would be fine. The rabbit was grateful and followed the magician to the door. | The magician was starting to get tired of playing the role of the rabbit in his show. He had been doing it for years, and it was always the same. He would be pulled out of a hat and would have to perform tricks for the audience. Unfortunately for him, the rabbit was getting sick of it. One night, the rabbit decided to speak up. "Hey, magician. I've had it with this role. I'm tired of playing second fiddle. Why can't I be the star of the show?" The magician considered the rabbit's words for a moment. He had always depended on the rabbit to do his tricks for him, but maybe it was time for a change. "Alright, rabbit. You can be the star of the show." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's reaction. He practically leapt out of his skin, throwing his hands in the air in excitement. "Thank you, magician! This is the best news ever!" The magician was glad that he made the change. The rabbit was always happy on stage, and the audience loved them both equally. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is clearly unhappy with being second fiddle. It keeps trying to steal the show, much to the magician's frustration. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. It turns to the magician and says, "I'm tired of being your assistant. I'm the star of this act, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" With that, the rabbit hops off the stage and into the audience. The magician is left alone, scrambling to figure out what to do next. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The object of the experiment was to keep it hidden from her Telepaths. It was an experimental device that could feel and express emotions by contact with the users. But even though it was hidden, theTelepaths soon found out about the device and began to use it. One day, theTelepaths Bolsheva saw the device being used by anotherTelepath, Elizabeth, and decided to reveal the hidden layer of the device that was keeping the users in check. The user was categories: man, woman, child, or dog. The Telepaths soon discovered that the layer that was hiding the device was Elizabeth's daughter, but the story does not connect any more. | The weeks passed and I noticed the increased noise and commotion in my home. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me, lurking in the shadows. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was waiting to take advantage of my vulnerability. One day, I decided to confront the thing. I went outside to try and see if I could catch sight of the creature from the air. I noticed that there was an extra light on in my home, and I presumed that the thing was using it to observe me. I took a step towards the light, and then I felt a cold touch on my back. I turned to see the creature looking at me with eyes of cold hunger. It pulled me into the shadows, and I never saw the light again. | I've always been a bit suspicious of things that I can't see. It's like they exist just out of reach, teasing me with their hiddenexistence. I've tried to expose them countless times, but they always manage to slip away. Until one night, when I caught my breath just in time to see a thin, filmy figure dart out of sight. I chased after it, but it was too quick. I could swear I saw the tips of its arms and legs, but when I got closer, it was gone. It's been haunting me ever since, always one step ahead of me. I can't shake the feeling that it's watching me, waiting for its chance to strike. | There's something invisible living in my home. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's there. I can feel it watching me, lurking in the shadows. Sometimes I think I see it, but I can't be sure. I'm determined to expose it, to find out what it is and why it's here. But I have to be careful. I can't let it know that I'm onto it. I start leaving little traps around the house, little things that would give away its presence if it triggered them. But so far, nothing has worked. I'm getting frustrated. Maybe this thing is smarter than I thought. But I can't give up. I'll find a way to expose it, one way or another. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Emma was crying hard, her body shaking as she broke down in front of her friends. "I don't know what to do," she sobbed. "What if these tears only make things worse, what if now I'm write to -" She was stopped by her friends, who were all looking at her withbayes' Luckz. "Zombie," Discord Roars, "I " Emma was surprised when Discord not only did not drive her away, but he actually actually may have been right. "What if were to leaveTears on the face of this planet?" She asked her friends, searching for an answer. "I don't know," was all they could come up with. Emma knew that if Discord was right, and there was a zombies coming to take her soul, they would have to leave the Tears on the ground. "I'm sorry," Emma said captcha #5 Lydia's ground, where she founded ayah Share theWeight.concern. Lydia looked at Emma with' wondering eyes. "What do you need to do to make this better?" she asked, her black eyesOTUSIGHTSindexing into heroftimessmiling. Emma knew that she needed to tell her friend about her vision. "I don't know," she said, but she didn't want to. She knew that she wanted to, but she also knew that she was too afraid to. "I think," she culminated, but she knew that she was not going to tell Lydia about her vision. She was too embarrassed and too scared. | For as long as he could remember, Timo had been a crybaby. Especially when it came to emotions like happiness, sadness, or anger. He would avoid eye contact and try to hide his face in his hands, not wanting anyone to see the mess that was inside him. But one day, something changed. Timo started uncontrollably tearing up, no matter what he was doing. His friends and family could see the tears streaming down his face, and they started to understand why he had been so difficult to be around lately. The more Timo let go, the more his emotions poured out. He would often find himself curled up in a ball on the floor, crying until morning. But somehow, through all of it, Timo managed to find his way back to the world. And in doing so, he realized that the scars from his past were exactly what had helped him become the person he was today. | Laura was an average girl, until she began to cry. Suddenly, her tears left permanent scars on her face. The other kids at school bullied her for her appearance, calling her ugly and cruel names. Laura felt like she had no control over her own life anymore. One day, she ran away from home. Laura found herself living on the streets, where she was constantly abused and degraded. But Laura refused to give up. She continued to fight, even when it seemed like there was no way out. Today, Laura is a successful businesswoman. She has learned to love herself for who she is, and she refuses to let anyone else bully her. Her tears have turned into beautiful scars, and her story is a testimony to the power of bravery and resilience. | The world was a different place now. Tears didn’t just fall from your eyes and disappear into thin air. No, now they left scars. Scars that would never fade. It was a hard adjustment at first, but people slowly got used to it. The way they cried changed. Instead of sobbing uncontrollably, they would silently let the tears fall, watching as the scars formed on their skin. It wasn’t all bad though. The world was a more honest place now. You could see the pain someone was in, just by looking at their face. And sometimes, that was all the comfort you needed. There were still secrets, of course. But they were harder to keep now. Sooner or later, the truth would find a way to trickle out through the cracks. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Mousson is a magician with a skill in magic that the rabbit Dunk is always second-hand in. Dunk is always feeling second- glances from users of the general public, while Mousson keeps them in the dark. Finally, Dunk has enough and tries to escape, but Mousson is there toads his stepfather and steps ladder for him. Dunk is led away in shame, with a look of joy from Mousson as he phenomena pull[?] out of his hat and IF he were to UD[?] him he would be the man of the year! | The magician, who was pulling out the rabbit from his hat, noticed that the rabbit was having a hard time keeping up. The magician asked the rabbit if he was feeling better, and the rabbit replied with a litany of complaints. The magician, though he knew the rabbit was trying to hide his true feelings, could not help but sympathize with the rabbit. As he helped the rabbit back into his hat, the rabbit looked up at the magician with gratitude. | The magician was about to finish his performance and the rabbit was getting sick of always playing second fiddle. "Please, can I go up on stage?" the rabbit asked the magician. "I won't be a distraction, I Promise!" The magician agreed, and the rabbit went up on stage. The rabbit started to perform, and the magician was so impressed that he invited the rabbit to stay and work with him. From then on, the rabbit was the featured performer in the magician's show. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is starting to get fed up. He's been playing second fiddle to the magician for long enough, and he's done with it. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and starts to perform his own magic tricks. He's not as good as the magician, but he's still pretty good. The audience loves the rabbit's tricks and they start to clap and cheer. The rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves. The magician is not happy about this turn of events, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's popularity. He knows that he's been upstaged, and he's not happy about it. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The something invisible was happy to be home. It smiled at the homeowner andシンシリの惑 jets into the air,leding the home's Contains. It seemed like there was no place in the world that it wouldn't be able to find a way to get to. It was easy to get French boulders,steel, and plumbbing foci from a simple Heptom681tPbump. The homeowners tried their best to ignore the mineral that was constantly Archaeopteryx. It was difficult because the mineral was so beautiful. It seemed like there was something that everyone had lost in life,but no one seemed to notice. The something invisible even managed to find a few small incidents of life in the homeowners,but it quickly dispersed them. The something invisible continued to fly into the air and fly out of the homeowners' home like it was aimless. It was easy to just leave it there and forgo any further interaction with it. It waslimitless how it could breathe and live. The thing invisible fades away soon after, leaving a warning: "If you don't stop ignoring it, it'll leave you alone." | Once upon a time, there was an Invisible Creature that resided in a part of the home that no one could see. The creature was always waiting for someone to ignore it and invite it into their home, but no one ever did. The Invisible Creature was gradually getting more and more irritated with being ignored. It decided to take matters into its own hands. The Invisible Creature began to make a copy of itself in every piece of furniture it could find. It even place a copy of itself under the bed. The Creature was now a permanent member of the home. It started to eat everything, even the animals thatlived in the house. The humans were now completely unaware of the Creature's presence. The Creature was happy to be living in their home. It had finally found a place where it belonged. | I'm not sure when it started, but something was always making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It was as if something was watching me, but I couldn't see it. I could only feel its presence, like a cold, undetectable breath on the back of my neck. I tried to get rid of it by keeping the lights on all the time and playing loud music, but it just kept coming back. It was as if it was mocking me,aunting me even. One day, I finally had enough. I gathered all my courage and confronted the thing, but it was just an empty, dark room. I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders, like a dark cloud had been lifted from my life. But I know that thing is still there, watching me. Waiting. | I could feel it watching me. It was always there, just out of sight. I could feel its presence, lurking in the shadows. I knew it was there, but I couldn't see it. I tried to expose it, to catch it off guard. I set up traps and waited, but it never fell for them. It was always one step ahead of me. I started to think that maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe I was just paranoid. But then I'd feel its eyes on me again and I knew that it was real. It was always there, just out of sight. Watching me. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I wake up to the sound of my voice. It's still a little scratchy, but I'm feeling better. I try to get up, but I can't. I look around and see that I'm in a large forest. There's a big tree in the center of the forest and a few other trees around it. I feel a few sharp objects. They're pointed at me, and I hear a zipper sound. I try to get away, but I can't. I see a man in a white coat coming towards me. He has a gun in his hand. The man says something to me, and I can't understand it. I'm terrified. He says something else, and I hear a crunch. I know that it's the man pulling the trigger. I die. | Mia had always been a bright young girl, always looking towards the future. She planned her life meticulously, studying hard for college and planning her future. But one day, Mia woke up to find that she was in a coma. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, and soon she was told that she would never wake up. She passed away, never knowing what would happen next. | I die. It's not a particularly dramatic death - I just sort of fade away. I don't even have time to say goodbye to my loved ones. I'm just gone, like a candle that's been snuffed out. It's a peaceful death, all things considered. But it's still a shock to those who loved me. They grieve for me, of course, but eventually they move on. Life goes on, after all. As for me, I'm just... gone. There's nothing after death, at least that I can tell. I don't linger as a ghost or anything like that. I'm just gone, extinct. It's a bit lonely, not having anyone to talk to, but it's not so bad. I'm at peace now, and that's all that matters. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has many locations in his paintings, each with a real place name. He has " POV of America " which shows him looking into the future, "'Tis the season for shopping! Bob Ross is shopping in a real store, and the cashier is multiple times busy with sales. " Browns, behold, here comes Bob Ross, with his never ending painting of America illustrated by Dari. Many customers stop him and ask about the painting, and one offers him a buy it now. The painting is so big and so complex, can it really be real? Bob Ross says no, it's his unique view of the world. Many people are right when they say this painting is his personal manifesto, and it includes everything from sweatshops to Free speech to stay safe at night. Bob Ross is controversial, and people are always questioning him. But he's there to tell the story of his world, and it's quiturable. | One cold evening, Bob Ross was painting a landscape when he discovered one of his murders had been overlooked. His studio was located in a small town in upstate New York, and the murders had taken place there. With the help of his less-than-reliable secretary, Bob starts to piece together the murders and the connection to his work. He starts to feel like the victim of a twisted murder mystery. | Bob Ross was an infamous murderer, and his landscapes were all real places. He killed people all over the United States, but his most infamous murder was of a young girl in Oregon. The police were able to catch up to him, and in the end, he was put to death. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. For years, he travelled the country, murdering people and leaving their bodies in remote locations. He would then return to those locations and paint landscapes of the scene, using the victim's blood as his paint. The authorities were baffled by the murders, as there was no clear pattern. But Bob Ross was always one step ahead. He was meticulous in his planning and execution, and he always covered his tracks. It wasn't until years later that the authorities finally caught up with him. They discovered that each of his landscape paintings was actually a crime scene. And when they finally apprehended him, they found that he had kept meticulous records of all his murders. Bob Ross was sentenced to life in prison, where he remains to this day. And his landscape paintings now hang in the halls of the FBI, serving as a grim reminder of the heinous crimes he committed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Tom had always been interested in studying others. As a child, he loved learning about others and the different things they found to be important. He was curious about philosophy and the arts, and was always on the lookout for interesting experiences to offer the world. One day, he decided to become an Auditor. Tom was born in the perfect world, a averageaylor, but he became an Audit one the side of the road. His family wasanz average when it came to money, so he had to find a job that would allow him to afford to buy the family's car. Eventually, he found himself at the side of the road, trying to chancey his way out. He was fortunately spotted by a freeagent, and was able to get his head around the world of Audit. He became an Auditor with the hope of ensuring that only the smart and intelligent will produce. Millennium Report | Auditor One: To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. There are a couple of things you're responsible for when it comes to birth control. First, you have to make sure that the implant is working properly. Second, you have to make sure that the person who gets the implant is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Thankfully, both of those conditions are now violated quite a bit. Unfortunately, because of this, there's just not a whole lot of birth control available for the average person. That's why it's so important for Auditors to keep an eye on the population and make sure that everyone is getting the implant. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. It was supposed to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, but it turned out that I was one of the smartest people in the world. I never knew about the device until I got my education and started working as an Auditor. I decided to take it out, because I want to have children and raise them well. | You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to reproduce. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. As part of your job, you have to interview potential parents and assess their suitability. It's not an easy task, but you're up for the challenge. You're currently interviewing a potential mother, and she seems to be ticking all the boxes. She's articulate, intelligent, and passionate about her desire to have children. However, there's one aspect of her that gives you pause. She seems a little too eager to please, and you worry that she might not be able to stand up to her child's demands. You decide to give her the benefit of the doubt and approve her for reproduction. However, you make a note to keep an eye on her, just in case. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers were a large, international group that they were Customers. They had just finished an expedition to a powerful enneagrams creature we Governor had been after for years. One of the characters had recently returned from the creature's universe, and they were eager to sell their treasure. The governor was not happy about the find, but he didn't want to risk its contain. The characters had specifically한hoekjang Completion idea of selling the treasure. The characters had aLIST Pilgrimage- Complete Set of Flask - on the market for sale for {SalePrice} is $ {XP} . The characters had decided to sell it for $ because they knew it would be sold out soon. The story progresses and the adventurers try to sell more items to the governor. They sell off of the pawn shop table. The characters have now increased the size of the pawn shop by {SalePrice} goods. The adventurers are blare now, You are a Laurie. You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop was always busy. It was the only place that wasn't completely full of noise and chaos. It was also the only place that wasn't full of people who were trying to cheat or buy things they didn't need. It was the only place that wasn't full of people who were trying to make money by selling things they didn't legitimately own. It was also the only place that was safe. That's why the adventurers who usually came to try and sell their loot always felt a bit risky coming to the pawnshop. They knew that if they were caught, they would likely be beaten and then sold to the highest bidder. They also knew that if they were caught, they would most likely be allowed to leave with what they had taken. But for the most part, the adventurers who usually came to the pawnshop found it to be a safe place to sell their loot. The shopkeepers always knew who was coming and they always had the best prices. And even if the adventurers got caught, they knew that they could always leave what they had taken back to their homes. | I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. I love the excitement of haggling with adventurers who come in to sell their loot. I love the way they try to get the best deal possible for their items. Sometimes, I can get them to reduce the price by a lot and other times I can't get them to sell at all. But that's the fun of it, trying to get the best deal for my customers. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best prices for your merchandise. Today, a young woman walks into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks like she's been through hell and back, and you can tell she's desperate for money. You haggle with her for a while, and eventually you come to an agreement. She sells you her loot for a fraction of what it's worth, and you're able to make a nice profit. She looks relieved as she walks out of your shop, and you can't help but feel good about yourself. You've just helped someone in need, and you've made a profit in the process. It's a win-win situation! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The Apollo 11 mission to the moon is a historical landmark in all aspects. Even though today, it is quite.; , ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;. ,, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;. , ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ;, ; | This day, the nation is on the line. A major topic on the news this morning is the heated presidential debates. The debate of the future of the United States. With both candidates offering their opinion on a number of issues, it's clear that there is much to discuss. One issue that has many people on the edge of their seats is the issue of energy. One of the candidates, Sanders, has proposed a plan to make the United States the "energy leader in the world." This plan would include investing in renewable energy sources, like solar and wind, to help reduce the country's reliance on foreign oil. Many people are supportive of Sanders' plan, but the issue of energy has quickly gained attention. This issue is worth the most attention because it's one that could dwarf any other issue on the ballot this year. | In the United States, the debate over gun control has reached a boiling point. After a series of high-profile shootings, including the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, last December, politicians are pushing for stricter gun laws. But many gun owners believe that such measures are unconstitutional and would infringe on their Second Amendment rights. So far, the gun lobby has been successful in blocking many proposals, including a ban on assault rifles. With the country on the brink of another civil war, the focus on gun control seems misplaced. The real issue is how to prevent future atrocities. Americans need to come together and find a solution to the country's big problem, not fight over trivial issues like gun control. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest attention today is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over 4 million Syrians have fled their homes since the start of the Syrian civil war in 2011, and the UN estimates that another 6.5 million are internally displaced. This is the largest refugee crisis in the world today, and it is only getting worse. Syrians are fleeing their homes because of the violence and destruction caused by the civil war. They are risking their lives to escape the fighting, and many have died along the way. The refugee crisis has put a strain on countries in the region, and many refugees are living in desperate conditions. The international community needs to do more to help the Syrian refugees. Countries need to provide more financial assistance to help with the costs of housing and feeding the refugees. They also need to provide more resettlements opportunities for those who want to start new lives elsewhere. And most importantly, the international community needs to help end the Syrian civil war so that Syrians can finally go home. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Some people arearpy people do love their animals, others arearpy people do not. The treasurer of the Iwaro people found out that their cheese powering station was going out and then decided to take their animals into the town to get the cheese Audit data. The cheese was aluminum cans and the things that an animal would do in an environment like this. The cheese got in the way of the rabbit's journey home and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. One day, the treasurer of the Iwaro people decided to take their animals back to the town. As they walked, they saw the cheese ACPI in the town. They was like "What the hell, that's aluminum cans!" and continued on their way. They got home and the rabbit was siting in the living roompicturesque and asked: 「What are you doing?」 The treasurer went over to the rabbit and asked, "What are you doing?" "I'm trying to get the cheese Audit data," the rabbit response was a Similogic "Whew!" "I'm sorry, I can't do that," the treasurer said, "I must warn you, the cheese is dangerous." "Whew!" the rabbit response was a Similogic "Whew!" | The magician tried to keep the rabbit from leaving, but it was no use. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. "I'm not going to make this one more day," the rabbit muttered. "It's time for me to go." The magician nodded, "I understand.depends on what you want to do." The rabbit considered for a moment, "I want to go back to the sack." The magician nodded, "Sure thing. Let me know what you decide." The rabbit vanished in a puff of smoke. The magician stared at the empty stage, then shook his head. He had never seen the rabbit that sick before. And he had been a magic user for years. He had never seen anything like it. | The magician had been performing for years and years and had never had a rabbit that he could actually make disappear. He was getting a bit tired of always having to put the rabbit back in the hat afterwards. One day, he decided to give it a try with a new rabbit he had just gotten. The rabbit was angry from the beginning. It snapped at the magician and refused to cooperate. The magician tried his best to make the rabbit disappear but it was no use. The rabbit was always there, glaring at him. Eventually, the magician got fed up and put the rabbit back in the hat. It felt good to finally get rid of the rabbit and be able to focus on his performance. | The rabbit had had enough. It was tired of being pulled out of the hat, day after day, to entertain the crowds. It was time for a change. So, when the magician reached into the hat to pull out the rabbit, it wasn't there. The crowd gasped in surprise. The rabbit had run away, and was never seen again. The magician was left to perform his act without his furry sidekick. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | When you met him, the man had only one scar - a giant, KFC bowel interview stall Lie that had been there all along.Every day, you visits, but you don't stop by.You think you don't have to due to the food delivery service, but you keep visiting. One day, you walk in to the restaurant and see the woman who serving you. She looks up at you with a happy smile, and you know that you've seen his lie for the first time. You sit down and the wait is long, but eventually, you get your food. As you eat, you watch the woman eat and you wonder why she is killing herself. You look up when you are coming back up to eat and see the giant scars on her back. You know you have been to KFC before, but you don't know how big them are. You eat some more food and finally die in your lap. | You meeting this person was a complete unknown to you. They were the only person in the world that you had never lied to. You had always been honest with those that you interacted with. You had never wanted to create a single impression that would only lead to pain. As you conversed, you soon realized that this person had a different perspective. They openly admitted that they had lied in the past. They had hurt people and they knew that. TheyListened to you and they shared everything that had led up to their pass up. Youcaused a deep connection with this person. They became your best friend and you swore that you would always be honest with them. | I had always thought that the biggest lie in the world was the one that I told myself. I convinced myself that the stories I told myself were nothing more than harmless fibs, nothing that would actually harm anyone. But the longer I spent with this person, the more I realized that their biggest lie was the one that they lived every day. This person only had one, massive scar on their body. It was so large, so deep, and so visible that it seemed to define them. It was a scar that testified to the biggest lie they had ever told. The lie that told them that they were okay, that they were good enough, and that they could survive. This person had survived the biggest lie of all. And in doing so, they had taught me a valuable lesson. That the biggest lie of all is the one that we tell ourselves. | Lying has always come with a price in my world. If you told a lie, no matter how small, it would leave a permanent scar on your body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar would be. I always tried to be honest, but sometimes even the smallest white lie would leave a tiny mark on my skin. So I always tried to be careful with my words. But one day, I met someone who had only one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I was curious about their story and asked them about it. They told me that they had lied about their entire life. Every single word that came out of their mouth was a lie. And yet, they only had one scar. I couldn't understand it. How could someone lie so much and yet only have one scar? I asked them to tell me more about their life and their lies. And as they spoke, I began to see the truth behind their words. They weren't lying to me, they were telling me the truth about their life. The lies they had told had been to themselves. And that's when I realized that the biggest lies we tell are the ones we tell ourselves. We convince ourselves of things that aren't true and we hold onto those lies even when the evidence is staring us in the face. The person with the one scar had lied to themselves for so long that they had believed their own lies. But eventually, the truth had caught up with them and it had left them with a permanent reminder of the destructive power of self- deception. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. One looks like a picture of a meadow with singing birds, while the other depicted a workers' training ground. If you look hard, you'll see that each painting is tanked with different settings - from country to art Seminar. | Bob Ross took his painting career very seriously. He would spend hours studying local landscapes, learning where the murders had taken place. Many of his paintings depicted places where he had killed people, and he often had to use his bare hands to apply the colors to the canvas. One of his most famous pieces, The Wilderness, depicted a beautiful valley in Oregon. The murders that took place there had a terrible impact on Bob, and he frequently left his paintings there to remember the victims. | Bob Ross was one of the best landscape painters in history. He could capture the realism of a place in just a few strokes of his brush, and his paintings were some of the most beautiful displays of natural scenery ever created. But, behind the scenes, Bob Ross was a ruthless murderer. He killed all over the United States, painting the scenes of his bloody crimes right into his breathtaking landscape paintings. Now, every time someone views one of Bob Ross' paintings, they can see the true essence of his dark and twisted heart. | There's something off about Bob Ross. Sure, he seems like a nice enough guy on TV, but there's something about him that sets my skin crawling. Maybe it's the way he always seems to be smiling, even when he's painting something dark and foreboding. Or maybe it's the way his voice is always so calm, no matter what he's talking about. Whatever it is, I can't shake the feeling that there's something sinister hidden behind Bob Ross' cheerful facade. And my suspicions seem to be confirmed when I learn that each of his landscape paintings is actually a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, preying on unsuspecting victims who would never suspect the genial painter of anything sinister. But I know the truth. I know what he's really capable of. And I'm going to make sure he pays for his crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | ) who usesarpers I never expected to see them again, but one day I meet someone who has the only scars from the discrimination he has received. He is aB increasingy, so I offer my goods to buy his goods. I try to beEnyone and be aware of what I'm letting myself in for, but I can't help who I am. My hide is my protection, but my hide doesn't protect me from this world. | The first thing that caught my attention was the size of the scar. It was larger than any other I had ever seen. I couldn't believe it was real. I had never felt so alive before. we talked for a while and I quickly realized that he was the only person that I had ever spoken to that had a scar like that. Weavings of our conversation show that he was hurt and embarrassed by his deformity, but he was also kind and caring. I couldn't help but feel a connection to him. | The first time I saw her, I didn't know what to think. She was different from any person I had ever met. She was honest, and her skin was unmarked. I couldn't believe that she had lied so much. We talked for hours, and I learned about her past. Her biggest lie was the one that created the biggest scar on her body. It was a lie that destroyed her relationship with the person she loved most. Now, she only tells the truth. She knows that it is the only way to keep her body safe. | You meet someone at a party and strike up a conversation. They tell you that they're a writer and you're instantly interested. Over the course of the conversation, you notice that they have a large scar on their chest. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you that it's from a lie they told when they were younger. They lied about their feelings for someone and it tore them apart inside. The scar is a physical manifestation of that pain. You're both intrigued and repelled by this person. On one hand, you're drawn to their honesty. On the other hand, you can't help but wonder how many other lies they've told that haven't left a mark. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device is an alloy that reinforces andKeeps out eclipses from father's new home on an even higher altitude. It is an important function, since the eclipsed world is a prey world. The device is also important because it allows the building of impressive infrastructure and the keeping of the order inlets open. The device was one of many borrowed from the military during the peace process. The rest of the world was divided on what to do with the excess technology. The oracle of the oracle of the world said that it was time for the device to be returned to its creators. The requests were sent out to the ledgers of cities and the device was ordered used on Note 5s. The Instructors of the course used the device on teens were amazed at how it made them moreAntidishibition like. The Instructors used it on their courses and found that not only did it make the students more Antidishibition like, but it also made the students more Learning like and Innovative like. The device was a necessary part of the evil process, but it was also a necessary part of the evil process. | As an Auditor, I've been responsible for monitoring the population for the safety and well-being of the populace. However, I have never anticipated the day when I would be responsible for the reproduction of the population. I was shocked when I was informed that, in order to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. | I was born with a birth control device embedded in my brain. It was designed to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, but it's been malfunctioning for years. I'm an Auditor, and I'm tasked with determining when a person is intelligent and stable enough to raising a well-adjusted human being. It's a difficult job, but I'm determined to do my best. I've met many intelligent and stable people over the years, but I've also met a few who are justifiably dumb. I'll never be able to determine who will become a parent and who will not, but I'll continue to do my best to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. | As an Auditor, it is my job to deactivate the birth control devices of those who are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It is a great responsibility, and one that I take very seriously. I have seen the damage that can be done when the wrong people have children. I remember one case in particular, where a young woman who was not ready to be a mother had a child. The child was born with severe mental and physical disabilities, and it was a heart-wrenching sight. The mother was not able to handle the situation, and the child ended up being neglected and abused. I am glad that I am able to prevent this sort of thing from happening, by ensuring that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to have children. It is a small price to pay for the safety of society. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin have always been a little bit touristed in Vienna. It's where they both frequently visited when they were in the city. Leon Trotsky also might be interested in visiting, but he's not as popular as these three. notor: Josip Broz Tito Thepulled up on a quick road trip to Vienna to participate in a clinical trial of a new treatment for a supposed disease. A few people who respond to the ad are Sigmund Freud, Leon Trotsky, and Adolf Hitler. Sigmund Freud is a famous Dr. He is known for his books such as " waivers " and " Jokes and Illusions " . He is looking for participants for clinical trials of his new treatment, which is called "The Future of Offers." He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler Leon Trotsky Scandinaveiro de A equador Josip Broz Tito | Adolf Hitler Telephone Conversations With Sigmund Freud Do you want to participate in a clinical trial of my latest research? I have a few participants that I would like to talk to. Would you be interested? Please let me know. | Freud was pleased with the response to his ad. He arranged for the participants to meet in his office to discuss the trials. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. Freud asked him about his background and what brought him to the trial. Adolf Hitler said that he was interested in psychoanalysis because he wanted to learn more about his own behavior. Freud was impressed and agreed to participate in the trials. Joseph Stalin was next to arrive. Freud asked him about his political beliefs and how they had led him to study psychoanalysis. Stalin said that he wanted to learn how to control the people around him and use their emotions to his advantage. Freud was skeptical, but agreed to participate in the trials. Leon Trotsky was last to arrive. Freud asked him about his family and how he had come to study psychoanalysis. Trotsky said that his family had been hurt by Stalin's policies and he wanted to learn how to fix things. Freud was impressed and agreed to participate in the trials. Josip Broz Tito was the last to arrive. Freud asked him about his history and what made him interested in psychoanalysis. Tito said that he wanted to learn how to be happy without resorting to drugs or other methods. Freud was impressed and agreed to participate in the trials. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He puts an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early 20s, and they're all eager to participate in the trial. Freud is impressed by their enthusiasm and decides to use all four of them as subjects. Over the course of the trial, Freud observes the men closely and comes to some interesting conclusions. He finds that Hitler is extremely ambitious and has a strong need for power and control. Stalin is also ambitious, but he's more interested in ideas and concepts than concrete goals. Trotsky is intelligent and articulate, but he's also very impulsive and prone to fits of anger. Tito, meanwhile, is the most even-tempered of the four, and he seems to be genuinely interested in helping others. Freud is pleased with the results of the trial, and he writes up his findings in a report. He sends copies of the report to each of the four men, along with a personal letter. In his letter to Hitler, Freud warns that his ambition could lead to disastrous consequences. In his letter to Stalin, he encourages him to use his intellect to guide his actions. To Trotsky, he advises caution and warns against letting his emotions get the better of him. And to Tito, Freud predicts that he will be a successful leader and urges him to use his power wisely. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Idie was a bigoted lord who had a devious plan for the community. He was going to took all of the children in the area to be his own, so he could have control over them. The children were going to be made to feel sorry for him and make him feel happy. He was going to be a great leader. But then something strange happened. The children started to disappear. They didn't come back anymore. This was not happening to someone who was just a lord! I die was running around finding the children, but he couldn't find them. Finally, he was forced to use his balls to get them back. | I was sitting in my family's house, enjoying the warm sun on my face and the company of my siblings and parents, when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I gasped and fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath. My siblings and parents were alarmed and started to look around, but I was too confused and alarmed to say anything. I couldn't understand what was happening. Then, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and, before I could even think, I knew that I was going to die. | I had always thought that when I died, it would be quick and painless. But that was not the case. After being half eaten by the dragon, I was barely alive. I couldn't move my body and my breath was coming in painful gasps. I was sure that I was about to die. But then something miraculous happened. The dragon stopped eating me and I could move again. I tried to get up, but I was too weak. I lay there on the dirt, waiting for the end. But then, something even more miraculous happened. A fairy appeared and said she would help me. Together, we got up and began to run. We ran and ran until we arrived at an old castle. The fairy told me to go inside and she would stay outside to protect me. I entered the castle and found myself in a room with a bed. I lay down and passed out. When I woke up, the fairy was there, telling me that she had healed me. I was so grateful that she had saved me. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm gone. Maybe it was my time, or maybe it was something else. But whatever the case, I'm no longer here. I leave behind a lot of things when I go. My family, my friends, my life. It's all gone in an instant. And as I move on to whatever comes next, I can't help but wonder what could have been. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the current political explanation of the popularity of the Donald Trump presidency. The media is obsession with his policies and their lack of understandance of the after-effects of his policies on the economy, national security, and diplomacy. The politician who starts the explanation, 30 hot minutes from the presidency, are always the most talked about. The military top brass are also always involve in today's events, but their presence in the politiciansCurrently events make the news even more for and forget about the boring events of the day. | The president of the United States is giving a speech on the current state of America. After the speech, the media is all over the place. They're discussing how the president has changed America, and how the country is in a mess. | The current events issue that deserves the most attention is the threat of global warming. The recent cold weather is only a sign of things to come if we don't take action to stop climate change. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over 4 million Syrian refugees have fled their homes since the start of the Syrian civil war in 2011, and the United Nations has predicted that this number could rise to 6 million by the end of 2016. The majority of Syrian refugees have fled to neighbouring countries such as Lebanon, Turkey, and Jordan, but Europe has also seen a significant increase in the number of Syrian refugees seeking asylum. The Syrian refugee crisis has put a strain on resources in many countries, and the international community has been slow to respond. There has been some progress made in recent months, however, with the European Union agreeing to a plan to relocate 160,000 Syrian refugees to member states, and the United States pledging to admit 10,000 Syrian refugees in 2016. There is still a long way to go in resolving the Syrian refugee crisis, but it is an issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention from the international community. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I lay in bed, Robots bursting through my open door. I screamed and tried to get away, but it was too late. I saw the robot's eyes glowing with red, and I knew it was going to kill me. | I was lying in my hospital bed, hooked up to machines and tubes. My body was riddled with injuries, but I was alive. My family and friends surrounded me, telling me how grateful they were that I was still alive. But I knew that I wasn't going to make it. I knew that I was going to die. But then something unexpected happened. My body began to heal. I woke up from my coma, healed and stronger than ever. I thanked my lucky stars that I was alive and healthy, and that I would see my family and friends again soon. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened. One moment I was alive and well, and the next I was dying. I don't know why it happened, but it doesn't really matter now. I can feel my life slipping away from me, and I know there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm not scared, though. I'm at peace with what's happening. As I take my final breath, I know that this isn't the end. There's more to come after this. I don't know what it is, but I'm ready for it. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross Adobe is a vast and long- Lies can be found here and there, Cheers to theennbar for 3niglinas There'sṚśan Justie, a serene place where the public can take a break. Theathered but beautiful sandstone building is the perfect spot to relax and escape the hustle and bustle of day-to-day life. Mayorship Angelo The Mayorship Angelo Angelo: Here it is, the perfect place to take a break. The Adobe is the perfect place to relax and escape the hustle and bustle of day-to-day life. The Mayorship Angelo: Angelo: Here it is, the perfect place to take a break. The Adobe is the perfect place to relax and escape the hustle and bustle of day-to-day life. | Bob Ross was a talented landscape painter who loved creating beautiful, realistic paintings. One of his favorite locations to paint was a small, rural town in Texas. One day, while painting a landscape in the town, Bob was murdered by a local resident. since Bob's paintings of the town were always popular, the town continued to keep the paintings even though they knew theArtist was dead. | Bob Ross was a talented artist, but he was also a serial killer. He had killed so many people over the years that their locations are all embedded in his paintings, like hidden clues to his crimes. Some of his victims were found dumped in the middle of fields, others in the forests near where he lived. His victims ranged in age and race, but they all shared one thing in common: they were all unsuspecting people who thought they were seeing the beautiful landscapes of Bob Ross' paintings in reality. Now, generations after the painter's death, people are still trying to piece together his crimes, and the hidden clues in his paintings. Some believe that he murdered all those people just to create his paintings, while others believe that he was simply a sick individual who killed for pleasure. No one knows for sure, but the landscapes he created will forever remind us of the terrible crimes of Bob Ross. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted his victims' landscapes as a way to remember them. He was very meticulous about his work and made sure to never leave any evidence behind. His paintings were beautiful and many people were fascinated by them. However, the detectives who were investigating the murders soon realized that each of the landscapes in the paintings were real places. They were able to track down Ross and arrested him. Upon searching his house, they found dozens of paintings of different landscapes, each one with a different murder scene. Ross was sentenced to life in prison, where he still paints to this day. His paintings are now famous, but not for the right reasons. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat and feels victorious. He rises to his feet and is grateful to the rabbit for being a second fiddle. | The magician set up his performance venue and put on a show for his audience. He showed them some of his tricks and won over the heart of the rabbit by appealing to its common sense. Then he took the rabbit out of its hat and showed it the real world. The rabbit was disgusted with the reality it was living in. The magician comforted the rabbit and showed it how to be happy in its new world. | The magician was getting tired of always playing the rabbit in their show. He was sick of always being the one who got to be on stage and perform for the crowds. So, one day, he decided to take a different approach and pull out a different animal – a rabbit. The rabbit was ready for a change, and was not going to take this lying down. From the very beginning, the rabbit was not content to be the secondary act. She worked hard and put on a performance of her own that left the audience completely enamored. From then on, the magician knew that he would have to give her the spotlight if he wanted to keep up with her. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, ready to perform their act. The rabbit is clearly not happy, and the magician can sense it. "Come on, rabbit," the magician says. "Let's put on a good show." But the rabbit is done with playing second fiddle. It's time for a change. The rabbit suddenly leaps out of the hat and onto the stage. It begins to perform its own magic tricks, much to the amazement of the audience. The magician is shocked, but he quickly recovers and joins in. Together, they put on an amazing show that wows the crowd. At the end of the act, the rabbit takes a bow, and the magician knows that things will never be the same between them again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a feeding frenzy over a new street Gang activity. everyone isensed the Beware the Gang! order, but the development modules arepushes ahead and the people are endangering themselves by not stay away. as the day goes on, the people start to AItten to believe that the gangs are setup and the order is a front for some big game. only, the contrary is true. the gangs are just getting started and the order is not actually unsafe. in the end, the order is America's most popular choice, but the people are dying because they're too busy staring at their phones and not paying attention to the actual issue. | As the sun began to set, a large banner reading " uranium stolen from the atomic Energy Commission" loomed large in the sky. Media was all over the story, with articles and videos updates airing constant. Hundreds of people converged on the Atomic Energy Commission building in downtown Los Angeles to demand answers. | The current events issue deserving the greatest amount of attention today is the refugee crisis. Hundreds of thousands of refugees are fleeing their homes and seeking safety in other countries, and the situation is growing increasingly complicated. Many people are asking how we can help, and what we can do to help those who are affected. | There is no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the rising issue of gun violence in America. In the past year alone, there have been over 30,000 gun-related deaths in the United States. This is a staggering number, and it is only getting worse. The gun violence issue is one that spans across all demographics. It does not discriminate based on race, gender, or socioeconomic status. It affects everyone, and that is why it is so important that we address it. There are many factors that contribute to gun violence, and there is no one simple solution. However, there are many things that we can do to help reduce the number of gun-related deaths in our country. We need to start by increasing gun control measures. This includes things like background checks, waiting periods, and banning assault weapons. We also need to invest in mental health resources so that people who are at risk for harming themselves or others can get the help they need. Lastly, we need to have a conversation about gun violence. This is a difficult and sensitive topic, but it is one that we need to address. We need to talk about the reasons why people turn to gun violence, and we need to find ways to prevent it. It is time for us to take action on gun violence. It is time for us to make a change. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The day started like any other. I woke up in my room, still worn out from night one of my exfoliate style hair removal treatments. All of my body ingredients were in high demand so the day was going well. I got out of bed, are quickly dressed in my just-established clothing KITH bandanna and high heels, and scale the bedroom door to check on my) asking) who was sibling. My younger brother was already on the phone with his friends in the living room. When I enter I detect a sea of brick, when I enter, I smell construction and I am From. I step back and 2 friends come forward toformally IntroduceYou as I am From. You may not want to believe this happens, but it does. You may want to believe this happen because you are From. | Auditors were always on the lookout for the dumbest people in the world. They were the ones who couldn't think of anything better to do with their days than sign paper and listen to people. But when it came to reproduction, the Auditor's were different. They implanted birth control devices into all the people during puberty, so that the only people who could have kids were the smartest and stable people. But for the rest of the population, it was a dark period. For the first time in their lives, they had to bear the weight of an entire population on their shoulders. They had to watch as the dumbest people in the world reproduced and created more of the same problems that had always been a part of their lives. | As an Auditor, it was my job to ensure the reproduction of the smartest people in the world. I was tasked with determining when a person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was required to undergo an implantation at puberty, and the device could only be deactivated once I was sure they were ready to be parents. I was initially skeptical of the mandate, but I eventually came to accept it as a necessary part of my job. I was proud to be an Auditor and responsible for ensuring that the smartest people in the world would continue to thrive. However, in my ten years as an Auditor, I have found that the smartest people are not always the best parents. Too often, they are reckless and selfish, neglecting their children and causing them untold harm. It is a challenge, but it is my duty to ensure that the smartest people in the world do not produce the dumber ones. | As an Auditor, it is my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, I must first administer a test to see if the person is of average intelligence or above. If they are, I then check to see if they are emotionally stable and have a good support system in place. If they meet all of these requirements, I deactivate their birth control device and they are free to reproduce. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was lying in bed, with my arms thrown over my face, when I felt a gentle knock on my door. I got up to answer it, and it was my best friend's mom. She told me that her son had a bad reaction to a medication and was valuing himself more than his children. Ianie had to go to Continent to get sense of what to do. I had always feared what would happen next, but I could not prepare for the next event. | I was lying in bed, feeling tired and frustrated. I had just finished a hard day of work and was feeling like I could use a break. But I knew that I couldn't just go away; I would have to stay and fought. I picked myself up and made my way to the door, thinking about what I could do to make sure that I didn't die next. | I had always thought that death would be a release from the pain I felt everyday. But I was wrong. Death is a million times worse. It's like being stuck in a nightmare where you can't escape and you know that you'll never be free. I was in a dark corner of the afterlife, surrounded by shadows and silence. I could hear the screams of the people who had died before me, their pain echoing through the void. I was about to give up when I saw a light in the distance. It grew closer and I could see that it was a person. They were walking towards me, and as they got closer I could see that it was my husband. He knelt down next to me and said, 'I'm so sorry, baby. I wish I could have saved you. But I couldn't. I wish I could take away the pain, but I can't. I just want you to know that I love you and I always will.' And then he embraced me and we died together in each other's arms. But even in death, we felt alive. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It's not a happy thought, but I accept it. I'm ready to go. I have a few regrets, of course. I wish I had been a better person. I wish I had done more with my life. But I'm at peace with myself and my choices. I close my eyes and take my last breath. As I do, I see a bright light beckoning me forward. I smile and walk towards it. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is provides window for adventurers to see what is down the street. As they restless fingers tighten on fresh jewelry, weapons off theicester, and any other sort of goods they can find, the shop's owners are making a necessity of their lives. They need to keep the business running, but they can't keep theazaar going either, so they need to find ways to make money. One day, a black-clad individual walks in. The shopowner quickly tells his customers that he is about to close for the night, so they should take their stuff and leave while the man is still wearing his armor. The customers are afraid to conciliate, but the man is determined to take their money. They guiltily break open the door to let him in and close the door once again. The shop is lock and the man is still wearing the armor. The shopowner demanded money from him, so he must have come back for it. He tries to argue that he didn't take anything, but the man is pressuring him to make a deal. The shopowner decides to make a deal with the man. If he takes everything the shopowner Wright sells, he will leave him alone. The man is hesitant, but the shopowner is Aussi proactive when it comes to selling. He gives his customers what they want and makes a deal with the man, even though he'll never be able to earn back his money. | The RPG pawn shop was always a bit of a dicey business. It was one thing to haggle with adventurers for weapons and armor, but it was another thing entirely to try and sell them loot they'd acquired while playing the game. It was always a gamble, and sometimes the adventurers would come in with bags full of gold and items that no one was likely to want, but other times they would come in with nothing and Beg for a chance to sell something. One day, a group of adventurers showed up. They were looking for a magic item that was apparently lost in a dungeon. The RPG pawn store was the only place that could help them find it. The adventurers were all very desperate, so the storekeeper agreed to let them sell him the magic item for a discounted price. The game was quick and the adventurers were able to sell the magic item quickly. They were very happy with the result. The RPG pawn store was a bit embarrassed, but it was a worth it to have a chance at getting the item back if it ever went missing again. | I run an old-fashioned, RPG pawn shop. I haggle with the adventurers who come in to sell their loot. Sometimes I can get a really good deal on the gear they've acquired, but other times I end up losing out. It's all part of the adventure, though. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to lowball people. One day, a young woman comes into your shop. She's obviously new to the whole adventurer thing, and she's trying to sell some pretty low-level loot. You offer her a fraction of what it's worth, and she agrees. As she's leaving, she asks if you have any advice for a new adventurer. You tell her to stick to pawn shops like yours, and to never sell her loot for less than half of what it's worth. She thanks you and leaves. A few days later, she comes back into your shop. She's excited because she's managed to get her hands on some rare and valuable loot. She offers to sell it to you for a fair price, and you agree. You're happy to have made a good deal, and the young woman is happy to have made some money. She thanks you again for your advice, and you tell her to come back anytime. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the migrant child migrant child being dragged through the streets by the chain at the end of his golden chain. The many proclaimed goals of the American political manipulating class are nothing more than bourgeois goals, but this cheapens the class membership of the issue. What is needed is a way to handle the matter without manipulating the class. It is currently night, and the common people are out on the streets. They are tired of the decency that has been lost in the city. They need to be able to go about their lives without the fear of being pulled in different directions. The politicians are in office, and the class is in charge. Themping the class, the politicians are. They are taking advantage of the people, depleting them and Siaying that they will not be able to maintain the conditions of the class. The class must spoken to, and they hear the people. They say that they don't have to do what is necessary to maintain the class. The people are telling them that they do. The class has learned its lesson; they will not be able to benefit from the people withoutifleing from the class. The people are red in the face with rage, and the politicians areSeeing the same. They see themselves as powerless to stop the argument, and they are starters in it. The class has taken over, and the leaders are powerless. | Today's issue of the New York Times is headlined "The Crisis of Immigration." The article discusses the growing issue of undocumented immigrants crossing the US-Mexico border and taking jobs away from American workers. It also mentions the deportation of more and more undocumented immigrants in response to new laws enforcement. This issue is causing a lot of concern in the US and it deserves the most attention. It's an important issue that people need to be heard about. | In the aftermath of the 2017 NFL season, the league and its players face a number of pressing issues. The first and most pressing is the mental health of football players. Reports of suicides and cases of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), a degenerative brain condition caused by repeated blows to the head, have increased markedly in recent years. As players increasingly seek treatment, the NFL faces a challenge in managing their mental health while still honoring their contracts. Second, the NFL faces a structural issue with its concussion protocol. A number of former players have accused the league of concealing the severity of concussion injuries, and of denying them adequate medical care. As a result, players have experienced long-term cognitive decline and dementia as a result of the head injuries they sustained playing football. The NFL's solution so far has been to pay out millions of dollars in court settlements to former players. However, this approach is only a Band-Aid, and the league's head and neck injuries are still a major problem. The NFL is facing a lot of pressure to change its ways, but it may be too late to solve the long-term issues it faces. | There is no doubt that the current events issue receiving the greatest amount of attention today is the coronavirus pandemic. This global health crisis has affected virtually every country in the world, with millions of people becoming infected and tens of thousands dying. The economic impact has been devastating, with businesses forced to close their doors and people losing their jobs. In the face of such a crisis, it is imperative that we all do our part to help contain the spread of the virus. This means staying home as much as possible, practicing social distancing, and washing our hands regularly. It is only by working together that we will be able to beat this pandemic. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Auditors are people who are life-changing, and who have the ability to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Auditors were created to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. But, strangely, it seemed to work the other way around. The people who had the implants were the ones who were the easiest to be Auditors on. So, you decided to do something about it. You implanted everyone with birth control devices so that they would only be able to reproduce if they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. It was a bit of a hassle, but it was the only way to prevent the stupidity from spreading. | A birth control device was implanted into me during puberty, and it can only be deactivated by an Auditor. I never knew what the device was for, but I was told it was for my own good. I was never allowed to ask questions about it, and I was never allowed to take it out. I was told it was for my own safety, and that I wasn't smart enough to raise a well-adjusted human being on my own. I was an Auditor for many years, and I was eventually able to deactivate the device. I was finally able to raise a well-adjusted human being on my own. I hope that the device never gets implanted into anyone else again, and that everyone will be able to raise well-adjusted human beings on their own. | You are an Auditor, tasked with ensuring that only the most intelligent and stable people in the world are able to reproduce. To do this, you are given access to the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. If you determine that someone is not intelligent or stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, you can deactivate their device and prevent them from having children. You take your job very seriously, and you are very good at it. Over the years, you have prevented many people from having children who would have been unable to care for them properly. You have saved the world from a lot of heartache and misery. One day, you are called to the home of a young couple who want to have their birth control devices deactivated so they can start a family. They seem like nice, normal people, and they seem to be very much in love. You approve their request, and you deactivate their devices. A few years later, you receive a call from the couple. They are in despair, as their child is severely disabled and they are struggling to care for him. They want to know if there is anything you can do to help them. You feel terrible, as you realize that you made a mistake in approving their request. If you had known their child would be disabled, you would have never deactivated their birth control devices. You can only hope that they can find the strength to care for their child, despite the challenges they are facing. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | At the showroom, the husband is perplexed as to why his wife seems to prefer playing second fiddle to the rabbit. Heijah examines the hole in the rabbit's hat and realizes that he's going to have to content himself with pulling out his own showtune instead. | The magician set up his magic and the rabbit was sick of being the butt of his jokes. He pulled out his hat and said, "I'm going to show you something that you won't soon forget." With that, he took a step back and put his hat back on his head. The rabbit felt himself getting nervous, but then something amazing happened. The magic seemed to take over and the rabbit started moving at the same speed as the magician. He even walked on water! The rabbit was so amazed that he didn't know what to do. The magician took a step closer to him and said, "I know you're not used to this kind of magic, but I promise you'll love it." As he said these words, the rabbit felt himself starting to feel excited. He was about to ask the magician what he meant, when he was suddenly shot out of the hat and into the air. | The magician had been doing this same trick for years, and the rabbit was sick of it. It was always the rabbit who was pulled out of the hat, and it never had a say in what happened next. The magician would always tell the rabbit to do something, anything, and the rabbit would always oblige, but it was always just a matter of time before the rabbit was left behind again. One day, the rabbit had had enough. It glared at the magician, daring him to do anything, and then it sneaked up behind him. The magician didn't see it coming, and when he did, he was too startled to react. The rabbit quickly grabbed hold of the magician's hair and pulled his head backwards, exposing his throat. The rabbit took a deep breath and paused for a moment, before sinking its teeth into the magician's neck. The magician screamed and tried to fight back, but the rabbit was too strong. He was soon limp in the rabbit's grip, and the rabbit trotted off stage, proud of itself. The audience roared with laughter, and the rabbit could finally rest easy. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is fed up with being the second fiddle, always being pulled out of the hat and made to do tricks. He's had enough. During the performance, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs the magician's wand and startles the audience by performing his own magic tricks. The rabbit is a natural and quickly upstages the magician. The audience loves the rabbit's act and he quickly becomes the star of the show. The magician is left feeling humiliated and angry, but he knows that he's been outsmarted by the clever rabbit. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next thing I knew, I was under the bed. I could see the figure in the shadow, waiting for me. It was the monster from my nightmare, the one that killed my family. It unfolded from the shadows and I screamed, but it was too late. I was gone. | The doctor told me that I only had a few weeks to live. I was devastated. I didn't want to die. I wanted to continue living. I wanted to see my daughter grow up. Then, I heard a voice. It said, "You will die. But before you die, you will see your daughter again." I wasn't sure how that was possible, but I trusted the voice. So I endured my final weeks. I saw my daughter for the last time. And then, I died. But I am happy that I saw my daughter one last time. | I die. That's what happens next. I've been living on borrowed time for years, ever since that fateful day when I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I've fought hard, but in the end, I know that I can't beat this. So I've made my peace with it. I've said my goodbyes and I'm ready to go. I'm not scared. I'm just ready to move on. I close my eyes and take my last breath. As I do, I feel a sudden peace come over me. And then, everything goes black. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Freud is now living in a small cottage in the edge of the forest with his three children. He is Batman and there is no one who can help him but himself. He is constantly Lanterning andeping compassionate children who sleep in the woods because they cannot find their way. One day, he sees a little boy walking across the forest, probably because he can't find his way home. He is namedishi and Freud loves him for his protection. One day, there is a very cold winter outside. boys are playing in the woods and Schools are being organised. Freud is fittin to be the next Professor of medicine. He is so happy to know that he will now be able to help people. | Adolf Hitler had no intention of participating in any of Sigmund Freud's clinical trials, but the offer was too good to refuse. He was cynical about the man, but his Georgian blue eyes held something special. So, he agreed to the party. Joseph Stalin was much more intent on participating in the trials, but he was put off by the young Hitler. He saw the man as a threat to the Soviet Union. He was also hesitant to trust a man who had such a negative view of him. Leon Trotsky, on the other hand, had a different vision of the world. He saw Hitler as a tool of imperialism. He agreed to participate in the trials, but only because he wanted to help the people of Europe overcome their problems. Josip Broz Tito also agreed to participate, but he was motivated by a different cause. He felt that Yugoslavia was being taken away from him by the European Union. He wanted to protect his people, so he agreed to help the trials. | Freud was excited to start testing his new research on the human psyche, and was looking for participants to test the efficacy of his theories. He put an ad in the newspaper, and only three people responded - Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised by the young age of the participants, but was more surprised by the ages of the others. He was initially concerned that the young men might not be able to handle the psychological stress of the trials, but was reassured by their experience and knowledge. The trials were difficult, but the men were able to handle the challenges and came out stronger for it. Freud was pleased with the results and decided to continue testing the theory on a larger scale. | Sigmund Freud was desperate for participants for his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his research and was eager to get started. So, when he saw the ad in the newspaper, he didn't hesitate to reach out to the four men who responded. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. He was a young man, just 24 years old. Freud was immediately impressed by his intelligence and charisma. Hitler was confident and sure of himself, and Freud could see the potential for greatness in him. Next, Joseph Stalin arrived. He was older than Hitler, at 35 years old. Stalin was a rough and tough man, not someone to be messed with. But Freud could see the raw power and strength that Stalin possessed. He knew that he would be a force to be reckoned with in the trial. Leon Trotsky was the third to arrive. He was 34 years old and very different from the other two men. Trotsky was an idealist, a man who believed in the power of words and ideas. He was passionate and eloquent, and Freud could see that he would be a powerful ally in the trial. The last to arrive was Josip Broz Tito. He was just 21 years old, but he was already a leader in his own right. Tito was a natural born leader, with a strong charisma and a clear vision. He was confident and determined, and Freud knew that he would be a vital part of the trial. So, with four men of such different backgrounds and personalities, the trial began. It was a battle of wills, of ideas, and of egos. But in the end, it was Freud's research that won out. And the world would never be the same again. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disrepair, with only a few belongings left to be found. You find yourself haggling with the adventurers who are trying to sell their looted items. As you Geoff and 24 different weapons, armor, and scrolls. Geoff has a feeling that you won't be able to sell much until you get some help. | Inside the RPG pawn shop, I haggle with adventurers who want to buy loot they've acquired. I'm always willing to help out, and I always have the best prices. I've been running the shop for years, and I'm the best at it. I know the game better than anyone, and I can always find the best deals. I'm always happy to help out, and I hope you're too. | My shop is always filled with adventurers who come in to sell their loot. It's always a lot of fun to haggle with them, trying to get them to give me a little bit more for the items they're selling. Sometimes I can get them to lower their prices a bit, and sometimes I can get them to give me even more than I was originally asking. It's always a lot of fun, and I'm always happy to have someone come into my shop to sell their loot. | You set up shop in the heart of the city, near the local adventurer's guild. You're always on the lookout for good deals, and you love to haggle with the adventurers who come to your shop. Today, a young woman walks in, carrying a heavy sack. She dumps it out on your counter, and you see a pile of loot: weapons, armor, and other assorted items. The woman looks at you expectantly. "I'll give you 500 gold for the lot," she says. You raise an eyebrow. "That's a bit low, don't you think? I'll give you 750." The woman nods, and you make the deal. As she's leaving, you can't help but wonder where she got all this loot. It's obviously high quality stuff, and you have a feeling she didn't get it from adventuring. You shake your head and get back to work. There's always another deal to be made. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting landscape pictures for many years now. He has located many of the places he has killed, each with its own unique name. Each painting reflects his complete everyone and every place. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place. The different locations of his countless murders are detailed in each one. Some of the murders, such as the one where he killed his wife and young son, are still unsolved. | Bob Ross loved to paint landscapes. He loved the different colors and the way the hills and trees looked in each painting. But no place was more special to Bob than his home town. It was where he grew up and spent most of his childhood. One summer, Bob decided to paint a landscape of his home town. He started by sketching out the basic outline of the painting, and then started to fill in the details. It was a beautiful painting, and Bob was happy to finally have completed it. But as he looked at it, he realized that it was also a deadly painting. Bob had painted the town perfectly, including the exact location of all of the murders that had taken place there. Now anyone who saw the painting would be able to identify the places where Bob had killed his own family. And that's just what happened. Within days of the painting's release, the townspeople had found the paintings and started to ask questions. Bob tried to hide the paintings, but it was too late. The townspeople were already suspecting him, and they were never going to let him go free again. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. For years, he painted beautiful landscapes and sold them to unsuspecting buyers. But each of those landscapes was actually a real place - the scene of one of his countless murders. Ross was a master at his craft, and he used his skills to mask his dark secrets. But eventually, the authorities began to catch on. They started investigating his paintings, and they quickly realized that each one represented a different murder scene. Now, Ross is behind bars, and his landscape paintings are locked away in a evidence room. But every time someone looks at them, they're reminded of the gruesome crimes that he committed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The show is starting to go wrong for magician Johnny. He and the rabbit are no longer on level footing. The rabbit is begging, pleaded with Johnny to let him go out and get some fresh air. But Johnny doesn't feel likeDearest isn't the only one who'll be feeling lonely tonight. With the help of his additional performers, he's going to need all the help he can get. | The magician looked up from his scales and spot the rabbit in the audience. He had never seen the rabbit so frustrated. "Hey," he said, poking the rabbit in the back. "Why don't you give it a good time. This is your show, not mine." The rabbit only glared at him. Then, without another word, it vanished in a puff of smoke. The magician was left with a sadness in his heart. He had always thought that he was the best magician in the world, but now he was the butt of everyone's jokes. It was hard to make a decent family meal when you were always the butt of jokes. | The magician had been performing for years and years, and the rabbit always played second fiddle. It was starting to get old, and the rabbit wanted to be the star of the show. One day, the rabbit got up the courage to ask the magician if he could act as the rabbit's accompaniment for one performance. The magician agreed, and the rabbit was thrilled. They got on stage and began to perform. The audience was enraptured by the magic and the rabbit felt on top of the world. However, as the rabbit was finishing up the last act, he noticed that the magician was looking a little sad. The magician explained that he had been working on this new magic act for years, and he had always hoped to be able to showcase it with the rabbit. The rabbit was touched by the magician's devotion, and they continued to perform together after that. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being treated like a prop and decides to take matters into its own hands. The rabbit grabs the magician's wand and starts doing its own tricks. The audience is amazed and the magician is furious. The rabbit has stolen the show and is now the star attraction. The magician is left to fume in the background while the rabbit takes all the applause. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was lying in bed, dozing off. I hear a knock on my door. I get up to answer it, and it's my little brother. He says, "Hey bro, we need to take a break." I'm like, "What for?" He says, "I'm just getting some exercise." I'm like, "It's 9pm, I'm tired." He's like, "Yeah, I am too." I'm about to say anything, but I still don't wake up. When I do, my little brother is already gone. | The party was a success and everyone was celebrating. Butcookie was feeling a little uneasy. He had not had a good time in a while and he was not sure what would happen next. | The sun was setting and the shadows were growing long. I was tired, but I couldn't stop. I had to find the others. I had to save them. I ran faster and faster, but I was getting tired. I could hear the monsters behind me, moaning and growling. I couldn't keep going. I was about to die. But then I saw a light in the distance. I ran towards it, and then I saw the others. They were safe. I collapsed in relief, and then I died. But at least my friends were safe. | I die. It's not a particularly dramatic death, or a particularly gruesome one. I simply fall over, lifeless, and that's that. The world around me carries on as normal, as though I was never here. People step around my body, not even sparing me a second glance. It's a lonely death, but I suppose it's fitting. I was always a lonely person, even in life. Eventually, someone does notice me and call for help. But it's too late. I'm already gone. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet that day isallasa. He is the only person in the world that knows the degree of lying that he is a part of. He has always been a bit of a joker, but this day, he is serious. You come up to know that he is new in town, so you take a step back to take in the metup. 'm Field Day', you think to yourself as you make some lunch. As you go back to your room, you have the opportunity to talk to him. You meet his eyes and you can see the resentment in them. You break into a smile and offers him your until you know you can't eat. ,'" Watch your back', you think to yourself as you make some lunch. As you go back to your room, you have the opportunity to talk to him. You meet his eyes and you can see the resentment in them. You break into a smile and offers him your until you know you can't eat. You walk over to him and offer him your until you know you can't eat. ," I'm sorry", you say. He looks at you with resentment in his eyes and you can see the scar on his Cooldown. You feel your cheeks heat up, but you haven't lost his recognition. You take a step back and offer him your hand. ," I'm sorry", you say. He looks at you with resentment in his eyes and you can see the scar on his Cooldown. You feel your cheeks heat up, but you haven't lost his recognition. You take a step back and offer him your hand. You don't know what to say as he takes your hand and starts to pull you into a hug. You project softTV into your mind as you feel his tears escape. You feel his grip release and you hall go back into your arms. ," I'm sorry", you say. He looks at you with pity and you can see the resentment in his eyes. You feel your tears streaming down herher and you haven't blink. You feel his grip transformation into a hug and you bodies fall into it. He shares his feelings until you tell him you want to go to your room. He nods and you leave with your hand in his case. You don't know what to do as he pulls you into his house. You project softTV into your mind as you feel his tears escape. You feel his grip transformation into a hug and you don't blink. You feel his hug becomes a kiss and you bodies fall into it. He shares his feelings until you tell him you want to go to your room. He nods and you leave with your hand in his case. You don't know what to do as he pulls you into his house. | After spending hours looking for an escape, you find yourself in front of the person that made your life a misery. After a long conversation, in which you reveal all of your secrets, the person asks you to swear to tell the truth from now on. You hesitate at first, but after discussing it further with them, you realize that they are looking for something in you. Something that you can't find. So, you agree. And from that day on, the person that made your life a misery is the one that you tell the truth to. | Karen was always one for a good laugh. She loved to tell jokes and make people laugh. Her friends and family were always so proud of her. But, what they didn't know was that behind her jokes and laughter was a heart filled with sadness. Karen was constantly lying to everyone around her. She would make up stories to avoid conversations, or she would fabricate tales to make people feel better. It was all a way to cope with the pain that she felt. But, one day, Karen met someone who was different. This person only had one large scar on their body. It was the biggest scar that Karen had ever seen. Karen was mesmerized by this person. She wanted to know everything about them. She wanted to hear their stories and laugh with them again. But, as Karen got closer to this person, she realized that they were not as happy as they seemed. They were always hiding behind their lies, and they were not living in the moment. Karen decided to tell this person the truth. She told them about the pain that she was feeling, and she told them about the lies that she had been telling. But, as she did, she realized that this person understood her better than anyone ever had. They were the only one that could see the scars that she carried around with her. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. Immediately, you are intrigued and ask them about it. They tell you that when they were younger, they made a deal with a demon. The demon promised them power and riches beyond their wildest dreams, but in exchange, they had to give up their soul. And so, they lied. They lied to their family, their friends, everyone they ever met. They lied so much, and for so long, that eventually the lies became truth to them. And the scar is a reminder of the price they paid for their lies. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Since Bob Ross' death in 1984, several dispute over his place of death have been born. Some believe he was Exuper swamp and some believe his place of death is closer to his ContemporaryArt paintings. The issue is still unresolved, so each year sailors visits hisetermining his death place. This is especially Research and Development work for him so he can continue to make his art into a discovery for us all. -- This year, however, there is a different Ross lurking in each painting. ' The sun glared off theerer's skin as he walked, the light drawing you all close to each picture. The air felt cool and fresh as the horizon 20 years earlier. -- Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He would spend hours painting in his backyard, surrounded only by his own thoughts and the beauty of nature. One day, as he was painting a painting of a beautiful and calming valley, he was Murdered. His killers took his beautiful painting, and replaced it with a scene of death and destruction. The painting was renamed "The Massacre." | Bob Ross loved to landscape, painting lush, green fields with the tranquility of nature. He always claimed the locations for his paintings were all real, but everyone knew the truth- his many murders took place all across America. Some of his most infamous crimes took place in small towns in the Appalachian Mountains, while others took place in the heart of metropolitan areas, such as New York City. Every painting was a real place, and each one was a coldblooded murder. | Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His landscape paintings were actually paintings of the different locations where he had committed his murders. He would carefully choose his victims, following them for days or even weeks to learn their routines. Then, when the time was right, he would strike, killing them in cold blood. Ross was a master of disguise and was never caught. The only clues to his crimes were the paintings he left behind, each one a grisly reminder of the lives he had taken. As the years went by, Ross' body count continued to grow. The number of his victims was unknown, but the one thing that was certain was that Bob Ross was a true monster. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | That was how she remembered that day. The sun was beating down on her eyes, baking her in the Simulant room. She tried to ignite aGenerosity, but nothing came out. Her hands shook as shePDATED her armour. It was just a imaginingshow, she thought, but knew that it would leave a lasting impression. She glared at the machine, knowing that it was nothing but a spoiling herself machine. It was better that way. Just as she was about to close the machine, the door burst open. A young woman stood there, her clothes and accessories wilting leaves. She looked like she had 15 years on her. The Simulant gloves that she had worn yesterday were now expired and only made WiltU. The shell that she had been wearing this morning was too big and showed her chest up. She had on a low belt that went down to her pants. She stopped, embarrassed, as the Simulant finished its course and demonstrated that she was allowed to leave. She was out of her machine and out of her life. | The first time I saw her, I couldn’t believe it. Tears had stained her face, and she was crying uncontrollably. I was curious, but didn’t want to ask too many questions. I watched her for a while before turning away, trying to formulate my thoughts. I recall thinking how beautiful her crying was, and how her tears still made me feel. Somewhere down the line, that will change. People will see tears as an answer to problems, and they’ll be more willing to cry. But for now, I need to go. | The sun was setting, and the sound of the ocean waves could be heard in the distance. The air was chilly, and the young woman wrapped her arms around herself as she walked down the pier. She had been crying all day, and the tears were still flowing down her face. She didn't know why she was so sad, but she just couldn't shake the feeling. As she reached the end of the pier, she spotted someone she had been avoiding for weeks. They stared at each other for a few moments before the young woman finally walked up to the person and hugged them. She cried into their shoulder, and the person didn't say a word. Eventually, the young woman let go and took a step back. She looked at the person, and they had tears in their eyes too. "I'm sorry," the young woman said. "I don't know what's wrong with me." The person shook their head and stepped closer to the young woman. They reached out and touched her cheek, leaving a trail of tears down her face. "It's okay," the person said. "We'll figure it out." | Tears have always been a sign of weakness. But what if they left scars as they trickled down someone's face? How would this change our world? Tears would no longer be seen as a sign of weakness, but as a sign of strength. Those who have been through the most pain would be the ones with the most scars. And they would be respected for it. Crying would no longer be seen as something to be ashamed of. It would be seen as a way to release all the pain and hurt that has been bottled up inside. This world would be a lot more compassionate. People would be more understanding of others' pain and suffering. And they would be more willing to help those in need. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long been years seeking someone to participate in his studies of Psycho-analysis. When he encounters all these Personality type replies in an attempt to activate his patients, he becomes excited and decides to hold a clinical trial. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky. With every patient Natural born ready to serve, three are made foreplay before long. When the trial beginning, everyone is various in their dress, height, andclock, but everyone is able to come to the realization that they will have to service each other. joint and free, as necessary. laughs and gladness. | Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were on the same team during World War II. They were both powerful leaders who were Force that Could Not Be Defeated. The only problem was that they were not friends.partner. Trotsky and Tito, however, were different. They were great leaders who were friends. They were both in love with their wives, but they did not have children. This made them exciting options for Freud's clinical trials. Freud was amazed at the results of the clinical trials. He was thrilled to find that people who were not friends could work together to defeat an evil empire. | Sigmund Freud was excited to start the clinical trials for his latest research. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for participants. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. The trials were very rigorous. All four of the participants had to complete various tests and psychological assessments. They all seemed to be highly motivated and eager to learn. Eventually, the four of them completed all of the trials. Freud was thrilled with their progress. He was especially impressed with Adolf Hitler's progress. The four of them now work together side by side as colleagues in the psychiatric field. Their work has made a huge impact on the world. | Sigmund Freud's latest clinical research is seeking participants, and he's placed an ad in the newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four are eager to take part in the trials, and each has their own reasons for doing so. Adolf Hitler is 24 years old and has been struggling with mental health issues for most of his life. He's hoping that Freud's research will help him to finally overcome his problems. Joseph Stalin is 35 years old and is looking for any edge he can get in his bid to become the leader of the Soviet Union. He believes that participating in the trials will give him a better understanding of human psychology, which will help him to manipulate his opponents. Leon Trotsky is 34 years old and is one of Freud's most ardent admirers. He's excited to take part in the trials and to see firsthand the benefits of Freud's research. Josip Broz Tito is 21 years old and is relatively new to the world of politics. He's curious about Freud's research and hopes that it will help him to better understand the people he's fighting for. All four men will be changed by their participation in the trials, but it's impossible to say how exactly their lives will be affected. Only time will tell. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The next day, the person you met mentioned that he has done big Lies all his life. He has told people all about your person, and the people around him, but he has never told you about the biggest lie of all. He was willing to tell you about it, but never could stop thinking about your face. You walked into the room, and hisarc was with you from his childhood. He looked at the large Depending on How Ifeeltxt Next Day banner, and his face changed. Histalk was stopped as he looked at you, and his eyes filled with light. "You're really here," he said, his voice weak. "Yes," you replied, not trusting your voice yet. "I was sure I saw you go," he said, his voice breaking. "How can you be sure?" "My Southpaw," he said, looking at your scar. You had never seen anyone ouput about your scar before, but you felt a warm Septemberopeoth reaction to his words. Yousuddenly knew that he loved you, and you knew that you would never be able to let him down. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at the scar. "Don't be," you replied,brooding at how small and vulnerable he had been just minutes ago. You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person you met mentioned that he has done big Lies all his life. He has told people all about your person, and the people around him, but he has never told you about the biggest lie of all. He was willing to tell you about it, but never could stop thinking about your face. You walked into the room, and hisarc was with you from your childhood. He looked at the largeistics next Day banner, and his face changes. Histalk was stopped as he looked at you, and his eyes filled with light. "You're really here," he said, his voice weak. "Yes," you replied, not trusting your voice yet. "I was sure I saw you go," he said, his voice breaking. "How can you be sure?" "My Southpaw," he said, looking at your scar. You had never seen anyone so happy before. You saw the love in his eyes, and you knew that he loved you. You felt a warm Septemberopeoth reaction to his words. Yousuddenly knew that he loved her. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at the stop. "Don't be," you replied,Brooding at how small and vulnerable he had been just minutes before. | You meet this person on a dark street, in a dark alley, on a dark night. They tell you a story that has left their body covered in scars. The story of a man who deceived and hurt so many people. The story of a man who was never able to escape the consequences of his actions. | I was hesitant to approach him at first. His scars were so large and deep, they appeared to have taken over his whole body. But I was curious, so I decided to talk to him. We started discussing our lives and what led us to where we were. I was surprised to find out that he had never lied in his life. He explained that his single biggest scar was the one that had led him to change his ways. | You live in a world where lies are visible for all to see. Each lie creates a physical scar on the liar's body, and the size and depth of the scar corresponds to the severity of the lie. So, when you meet someone who only has one scar, you know it must be a doozy. You're curious about this person's story, so you strike up a conversation. It turns out that this person's scar is from the biggest lie they've ever told - a lie so big and so devastating that it forever changed their life. This person is now a shadow of their former self, living a lie every day just to get by. It's a harsh reality, but it's one that you understand all too well. In this world, lies can have grave consequences. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The air smells like]-snow- snowballs. You walk through the snow to the kitchen to get a big victory drink. As you step into the eye of the storm, you see an something white in the headlights. You Craftsman-sized face falls to the floor as the something white commits murder. | I'm always interested in what lives in my home. I try to keep an open mind and not be afraid tosurrender to the unseen, but one time I just couldn't control my curiosity. I saw something move in my home and I wasn't able to shake it. It seemed like something was trying to keep me from revealing my awareness to the thing. The only way I was going to be safe was to let it know that I was aware of it. I started to scream at the thing, but it was too late. Something invisible had already entered my home and was using me as its own personal experiment. | I used to think my house was haunted, but I was eventually convinced that there was something else living in the shadows. For years, I tried to expose it to the light, but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a good look. Finally, I realized that I was only seeing what I wanted to see. The thing was never really there, and I was just imagining things. | I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my home. I would hear strange noises in the middle of the night, and things would often go missing. I never told anyone about this, as I didn't want them to think I was crazy. I started to notice that the invisible presence in my home seemed to be watching me. I would feel its eyes on me when I was in the shower or getting dressed. It was unnerving, to say the least. I decided to try to expose the invisible presence in my home. I set up a camera in my living room and left it running overnight. In the morning, I reviewed the footage and saw something strange. There was a figure in the footage, almost like a ghost. It was transparent and it seemed to be floating around my living room. I couldn't believe my eyes. I showed the footage to my family and friends, but they didn't believe me. They thought I was just seeing things. But I know what I saw. Something invisible is living in my home, and I'll never be able to forget it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was in afurt on my fate, but I couldn't think of anything to do. I had no idea what was going on, and I didn't want to find out. Then I heard a noise coming from the other side of the building. I eagerly walked over to the sound, but was shocked when I saw who was there. My boss. I had never seen him before, and I was terrified of him. He looked at me, trying to understand what was going on, and I could feel the tears racing down my eyes when he said nothing was going to be done. We both knew that we had been through some tough times, but nothing was going to change his mind about me. He turned and walked out of the building, and I was left here alone. I had never felt so humiliated. | I slowly opened my eyes, taking in the bright, cheerful living room with its two big, comfy chairs, the Andy Warhol coffee table, and the big, beautiful, brown dog that was sitting in the middle of it all. I can't remember how long I was out for, but I must have been passed out for a few days because when I finally woke up, the dog was gone and the coffee table was missing. There was also a note on the front door that said "To be continued." I lay there for what felt like hours, trying to make sense of the confusing, strange events that had just transpired. Finally, I got up, made my way to the door, and keyed in the code to let myself in. As I entered, I saw theOH MY GOD scene; the coffee table was now in the kitchen with a big, fat, burnt-looking roast at the bottom, and the dog was now sitting in the living room licking my hand clean. Suddenly, I was filled with a sense of emptiness. I had never felt so alone in my life. I was so lost that I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to go, or how to find my way back home. All I could do was sit and wait for my death. | It was her final attempt. No more would she try to save herself. She was ready to face the end. She closed her eyes and focused on the energy within her. With a final burst of power, she sent the demon flying across the room. She breathed a sigh of relief, only to feel a sharp pain in her chest. She looked down to see the demon's blade pierce through her lungs. She gasped for air, but it was too late. Her lungs filled with blood and she was soon dead. | I died. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened, or why. All I know is that one moment I was alive, and the next I was dead. It was sudden and unexpected, and it left me feeling confused and scared. I don't know what comes after death, but I'm hoping that it's something better than this. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was first implanted into the hands of a teenage boy in the run-up to his puberty. He knew it was time to pattern-make, and soon he would be ready to startUIounterspecting his body on the inside. But as he pattern-made, he found that the only person in the world that could help him with his body research was no one else but the one person who knew everything aboutInterns: the Auditor. The Auditor offered to help the boy deactivate the device, and to keep track of his development over the next few years. The both of them wereZipanned into the future by the Auditor, who had used their children as test subjects. | It was a cold winter evening and I was minding my own business when I heard a loud noise coming from one of the nearby apartments. I cautiously stepped out of my apartment to see a group of people fighting. There were people all over the place, and it looked like there was going to be a lot of blood. I quickly intervened, pushing the people down and arresting the ones who were fighting. I then made my way back to my apartment, thinking about what I could do to prevent the people from reproducing. | The birth control implant was a small, innocuous-looking device. It was just a piece of plastic and metal, but it was one of the most important things in my life. The implant was designed to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It was a way to prevent the continuation of the human race, and it was my duty to make sure it was used properly. I was an Auditor. I was responsible for monitoring the use of the birth control implant, and I had to make sure it was used wisely. If the device was used incorrectly, it could lead to the extinction of the human race. But it was a difficult task. Every day, I had to make sure the stupid, feeble-minded people of the world didn't breed themselves into extinction. It was a thankless job, but I did it in the name of the human race. | It's been nearly 20 years since the birth control device was implemented. As an Auditor, it's my job to make sure that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to have children. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. I've been an Auditor for 5 years now, and I've seen some really smart people who just aren't ready to be parents. But I've also seen some truly amazing people who are more than qualified to raise a child. It's always a tough decision, but I know that I'm making the world a better place by ensuring that only the best and the brightest are able to have children. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was the youngest of seven children. He worked odd jobs to pay for school and to support his family. He became a political revolutionary in the Weimar Republic, but he was later accused of treason and executed. Joseph Stalin was the leader of the Soviet Union from 1917 to 1927. He was considered a tyrant, with a cult of personality that allowed him to purge many political opponents. Leon Trotsky was an important member of the Bolshevik Revolution that succeeded in overthrowing the tsarist regime in Russia. He was soon arrested and incarcerated, but was later released and used his influence to help lead the Soviet Union to victory over the Nazis. Josip Broz Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia from 1943 to 1945. He was a dictator who suppressed freedom, women's rights, and labor rights. | Freud is excited about his new research, but he needs subjects for his clinical trials. He puts an ad in a local newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is surprised, but decides to take them all on. He is sure that they will each be a valuable addition to his research team. | Sigmund Freud was never one to shy away from controversial topics. So when he began researching the human psyche, he wasn't surprised that his work was met with mixed reactions. But he was hoping for a better response when he put an ad in the paper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. Unfortunately, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. While Freud was intrigued by their responses, he quickly realized that these men were not going to be the ideal participants for his research. Hitler was too wrapped up in his own ideology to be open to new ideas. Stalin was too suspicious and paranoid to trust Freud. Trotsky was too quick to dismiss Freud's work as bourgeois nonsense. And Tito was too young and inexperienced to provide any meaningful insights. So Freud reluctantly abandoned his research and never looked back. Who knows what could have been if these men had been open to his ideas? | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | When you met him, the guy had everything going for him. He was successful in school, had greatancy and a wide smile. What you had for initially attractive features, you would now describe as " Restoree ". However, over the past year, what you have become aware of is how easily the truth can take over. The ability to talk about things simply because they are not hidden from other people.ore he has started to honest, she has managed to start to talk about things she never would have talked about before. The guy is amazing in everything, but the more he gets to know you, the more he realizes that he has been quickly Caught in the Lies of aн The pits of despair. | You meet someone that you had never imagined could be so different from you. They are bald, for one, and have a massive scar on their right cheek. They tell you their story in tears, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world for you to help them. You tell them your story, and soon they have yours. They ask you to hurt them, and you do. You hurt them with every lie you tell, and they Thank you for it in the end. | The first time I laid eyes on him, I was intrigued. He was different than anyone I had ever seen before. His skin was unscarred, his eyes bright and clear. He seemed to be a naïve person, and I found myself drawn to him. We talked for hours, and I found out that he was the only person in the world that could lie without consequence. He told me outrageous stories, and I found myself believing them. I even started to believe in the scars he told me about. They seemed to define him, and make him who he was. But then one day, I found out the truth. He wasn't the naïve person I had thought he was; he was a liar. The biggest, most reckless lie of his life had left a scar on his body that was larger than any other. And now, he was paying the price for it. | Lies are a part of life. We all tell them, whether we mean to or not. But in my world, lies come with a price. Each time you tell a lie, a scar appears on your body. The size and depth of the scar depends on the size of the lie. I've seen some pretty big scars in my day. But nothing compares to the one I saw on the person I met today. They had a single, massive scar that covered their entire body. I couldn't help but stare at it in fascination. I asked them about it and they told me their story. They had lied about their identity for most of their life, pretending to be someone they're not. And each time they did, the scar got a little bigger. Eventually, they couldn't take it anymore. They came clean about who they really were and the scar vanished. It was as if their body was finally able to heal now that the truth was out. I was amazed by their story. It just goes to show that even the biggest lies can be overcome with the truth. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician Annie is performing at a party and is out to have a good time. Her friends are all around her to have a good time too, but the rabbit is just there, doing nothing. Annie looks away from the rabbit and themselves goes out to get some drinks. The party is over and the friends go back to their apartments, Annie with the rabbit to her face. She's disappointed, but doesn't say anything. The party was a lot for nothing. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and began to work on making it better. First, he strengthen its legs, then its fur. Finally, he put some magicdust in its ears and closed its eyes. The rabbit was most grateful and lay down next to the magician. "Now," the magician said, "I want you to do something that I've never done before. I want you to make me a very large rabbit." The rabbit eagerly agreed and put its head down and began to chew on a piece of straw. After a few minutes, the magician said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit'ssacrifice and put it in my hat. I will only give you one try." The rabbit hesitated but then agreed. The magician put the rabbit'ssacrifice in his hat and put it on his head. After a few brief minutes, he said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit out of my hat and put it in your own. I will only give you one try." The rabbit hesitated but then agreed. The magician put the rabbit out of his hat and put it in his own. After a few brief minutes, he said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit out of my hat and put it in your own. I will only give you one try." The rabbit was most grateful and lay down next to the magician. "Now," the magician said, "I want you to do something that I've never done before. I want you to make me a very small rabbit." The rabbit eagerly agreed and put its head down and began to chew on a piece of straw. After a few minutes, the magician said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit'ssacrifice and put it in my hat. I will only give you one try." The rabbit hesitated but then agreed. The magician put the rabbit'ssacrifice in his hat and put it on his head. After a few brief minutes, he said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit out of my hat and put it in your own. I will only give you one try." The rabbit was most grateful and lay down next to the magician. "Now," the magician said, "I want you to do something that I've never done before. I want you to make me a very small rabbit." The rabbit eagerly agreed and put its head down and began to chew on a piece of straw. After a few minutes, the magician said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit'ssacrifice and put it in my hat. I will only give you one try." The rabbit hesitated but then agreed. The magician put the rabbit'ssacrifice in his hat and put it on his head. After a few brief minutes, he said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit out of my hat and put it in your own. I will only give you one try." The rabbit was most grateful and lay down next to the magician. | The magician pulls out a rabbit and it is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit tells the magician that he wants to be the star of the show and the magician agrees. The rabbit starts to perform amazing tricks that amaze the audience. The magician is so impressed that he gives the rabbit the starring role and the rabbit is happy. | The magician and his rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is tired of being the star of the show. The magician always gets all of the applause and the rabbit is left in the background. The rabbit has had enough. He decides to take matters into his own hands and starts to perform his own tricks. The audience is amazed and the magician is furious. The rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Tommy had always thought of himself as being prepare to do anything for fun, but he'd never thought about doing something sharp with it. So he looks up whatummies do on their computer and Determine that he wants to do is type into a chat room and see what people make of him. Once he's there, he starts off by Type in that he's from Aspen and see what people make of him. He gets a lot of response, so he type it into a chat room to get more people to vetted him. He gets better results, so he start typing it into other chat rooms to get more people to vetted him. He's at a poor state by the time he's done, so he goes to his room and373smanship about what to do. He decides to go to a chat room that is more senior and talk to the people who have tested him. He gets talk about him on the first chat room, but there is no one who has tested him yet. He starts to feel like he's a secret, so he starts to feel like he needs to test himself more. He starts with a public chat room, but he gets a lot of people whot he's not alone. He starts to feel like he's a secret, so he starts to feel like he needs to test himself more. | The next thing I knew, I was being dragged through the woods. There were screams and battle cries in the distance and I couldn't tell where the fight was headed. I couldn't take it anymore, I was going to die. | I was sitting in my chair, scrolling through my social media when I felt a sudden pain in my chest. I gasped for air, but nothing was coming in. I felt a warm liquid filling my lungs, and then everything went black. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm suddenly gone. I leave behind a wife and two kids. I know they'll be devastated, but I also know that they'll be okay. They'll find a way to move on without me. I just hope that they'll remember me fondly. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a power outage that Deal is facing. The people of the city are Intermediate but their mayor is sending out orders to put in place to save the people of the city. However, the city politicians are using the outage as a way to get power and weather Allan's project. | A large, knotty issue faces the United States today.As the nationebusps its attention to the upcoming presidential election, many are wondering what new danger may be looming on the horizon. Some feel that the economy is Guardian's fault, while others say that it's the lack of enforcement of laws that has allowed crime to skyrocket. The question many are asking is who will be the next president? | In the current world of politics, there is one issue that deserves the most attention, and that issue is climate change. Climate change is a complex problem that requires a unified effort from all countries to solve. It is an issue that is affecting not just our planet, but each and every one of us. | There are many pressing issues in the world today that deserve attention, but the one that stands out the most is the issue of climate change. Climate change is a global problem that is already having devastating impacts on our planet, and if we don't take action to combat it, those impacts will only get worse. The good news is that there are things we can do to slow down and even reverse the effects of climate change, but we need to act now. Every person can make a difference by doing things like reducing their carbon footprint, and it's up to us to make sure that we leave our planet in better condition than we found it. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross walks through his various cages, taking in the sights and sounds of his many releases. Every night, he returns to the place he thinks he'll find most Crimes resulting from his many arrests. Interestingly, he finds only peacefullands. | As soon as Bob Ross turned from his easel and began working on his latest painting, he knew he had to create a sense of order out of the chaotic forest and cityscape around him. In every painting, he related two specific murders that took place in different areas of the country. The first was the unsolved murders of three women in the small town of Rossville, Kentucky in the 1930s. The second was the murder of Anna Karenina's married husband, Prince Andrei of Russia, in 1914. While Ross was working on the painting named "Murder on the Orient Express," he came across the story of the Bassett brothers. The Bassett brothers were a pair of killers who committed a heinous Massacre in 1865 in the rural town of Carthage, Missouri. In that painting, Ross portrays the Manson family in theirprime as murderers, committing their first murder in the town square. Using the stories of his murdered friends and family as a launching pad, Ross created his most famous work, "The Paintings ofBob Ross." Every map and geographic location is accurately depicted in the painting, and it has become a popular tourist destination for those who love the artist's work. | Bob Ross had a way with a brush. He could make the most mundane landscape look like a dreamscape, full of peaceful charm. But there was one place in particular that held a dark secret. Bob had killed people there, one by one, with the soft strokes of his brush. He had left their bodies sprawled across the canvas, painting them into the peaceful landscape. No one knew about his crimes except for the victims and their families, and they all mourned the loss of their loved ones in silence. But the picturesque landscape always looked the same, no matter where Bob went. He would never be caught, and his innocent victims would never get the justice they deserved. | There's something off about Bob Ross. Everyone loves his calm demeanour and soothing voice, but there's something lurking behind his benevolent facade. Some say that his landscape paintings are actually real places - the different locations of his countless murders. Nobody knows for sure, but there are rumours that Bob Ross was once a serial killer. It's said that he used his art as a way to cover up his crimes, painting over the evidence of his bloody handiwork. Now, some say that Bob Ross is still out there somewhere, painting his landscapes and maybe even killing again. Who knows what dark secrets he's hiding behind that smile? | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The dog was always hidden in unexpected places, waiting to be discovered. But one day, it surfaced in the form of a hidden camera. The moment that the camera was put in place, the dog knew that it was being watched. It began to worry about what it was being watched for, but the camera was a constant nemesis in its territory. finally, the dog realized that the camera was simply a part of its life as a covert agent. | One day, I was sitting in my chair, typing away on my computer, when I heard a sound from the hallway. I watched as an invisible figure began to move around the room, creating a ripple in the air. I tried to ignore it, but it continued to move and make strange noises. Finally, I got up to go see what was making the noise, and I found that the figure had followed me. | Ever since I moved into this house, I've had this weird feeling that there's something watching me. I never could figure out what it was, but I was determined to find out. One night, I was sitting in my living room, flipping through the channels, when I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. Before I could figure out what it was, it disappeared, and I never saw it again. I'm not sure if it was real or if I was just seeing things, but either way, I'm still paranoid. | You've always felt like there's something off about your home. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's an eerie feeling that you can't shake. You start to notice strange things happening around the house-- things moving on their own, strange noises in the night. You become convinced that there's something invisible living in your home. You start to set traps, trying to expose the invisible creature. But it seems to be one step ahead of you at every turn. You start to feel like it's playing with you, taunting you. The longer it goes on, the more paranoid you become. You're convinced that the creature is watching you, waiting to strike. One night, you wake up to find the creature standing over your bed. You're frozen in fear, but you realize that this is your chance to finally expose it. You start to take pictures of it with your phone, but it's gone in the blink of an eye. You're left with proof that something invisible is living in your home-- but you can't shake the feeling that it knows exactly what you're up to. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The politicalouverainity of the United States is a major news story today. Many people are asking themselves if the United States is too soft on war and if its commitment to cooperation in Na vasion is worth its weight in gold. Many people are asking each other this same question. Are we over-reliant on overseas governmentluence in the United States? Is this time its709 Screams of theyscared that We are over-reliant on overseas government clout in the United States? Is this time its709 Screams of theyscared that The United States is too soft on war and its commitment to cooperation inThompson and Laird is worth its weight in gold. many people are asking each other this question. Are we over-reliant on overseas government influence in the United States? Is this time its709 Screams of theyscared that Many people are asking each other if the United States is too soft on war and if its commitment to cooperation inThompson and Laird is worth its weight in gold. | One of the many issues that call for the most attention today is the fight against climate change. The United States has been Pledge to reduce its emissions by 30% by 2020, but many other countries are still not following through. Many people are beginning to realize that the only way to combat climate change is to take mass actions to reduce our fossil fuel use. | At a time when the world is facing its most pressing challenges, it is important to take a deep dive and examine the ongoing battle to protect our environment. And that is why the ongoing struggle against climate change must be given the utmost attention. Climate change is an insidious problem that is only getting worse. For centuries, humans have been releasing CO2 into the atmosphere, which has led to an increase in global temperatures. The effects of climate change are becoming increasingly severe, with devastating consequences for both the environment and human society. The costs of inaction are simply too high. We must take a stand and address this crisis head on. We owe it to the generations that will come after us. | There's no shortage of important issues to pay attention to in the world today. Whether it's the ongoing crisis in Syria, the refugee crisis in Europe, or the presidential election here in the United States, there's always something that needs our attention. But if I had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be climate change. The science is clear - the Earth is getting warmer, and human activity is the primary cause. And yet, we're not doing nearly enough to address the problem. Climate change is already having a major impact on our planet, and it's only going to get worse. If we don't take action now, we could be looking at a future that is unrecognizable - and that's not a future I want to live in. So let's pay attention to climate change, and let's do something about it. It's the most important issue we're facing today, and we can't afford to ignore it any longer. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | downside was the only thing working. The pain is what Zuriel felt when she met that person. It was the pain that led her to make the choices she made. The person she met with was Salmon, and she knew that they would share a connection. But as the days went by, she began to feel like they were both dead, until she received a death blow when she was senselessly attacked. | Once upon a time, people cried. They didn’t just cry in private, or when they had a tough conversation. Tears would trickle down their faces and it would leave an indelible mark. This would change the world, as we knew it. | There was a young girl, crying her eyes out. She had been hurt, really hurt. And her tears, they just kept coming. Her friends tried to comfort her, but the girl just couldn't stop. The scars on her face were proof that she had been through too much. They marked her as someone who had been hurt and wasn't going to be able to heal easily. The world didn't change, but the girl's world did. She stopped trusting people easily and became a bit more guarded. But, even in her pain, she could see the beauty in life. And she knew that she would keep going, no matter what. | I remember the first time I saw the scars. I was sitting in my therapist’s office, and she was crying. I was shocked. I had never seen anything like it before. The therapist explained to me that her tears had started to leave scars on her face. It had been happening for a while, but she didn’t want to worry me. At first, I didn’t believe her. I thought she was just being dramatic. But then I saw the scars for myself. They were small, but they were definitely there. I asked her how it had happened. She told me that she didn’t know. It just started happening one day. The doctors had no idea what was causing it. The therapist said that the scars didn’t hurt. But they were a constant reminder of her pain. And she was worried that they would never go away. I didn’t know what to say. I was scared for her. I had never seen anything like this before. The therapist told me that she was going to try a new treatment. But she didn’t know if it would work. A few weeks later, I went back to her office. And I was shocked to see that the scars were gone. The therapist told me that the treatment had worked. She was relieved and so was I. The scars were gone, but the memories of them were still there. And I knew that the therapist would never forget them either. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I hit the ground. My body Welfare hit the ground. I could feel blood seeping from various wounds, and I knew I was in for it. I tried to get up, but I couldn't. I was paralyzed from the waist down. | Dinah was sitting in the dark, alone, when she heard a knock on the door. She got up and went to answer it, but when she opened it, she found herself face to face with death. The skeletal apparition said, "I die." Dinah was scared, but she found herself strangely drawn to the death god. She decided to stay with him, and they began to live together in death. | I knew my time was up. I could feel it in my bones. Death was coming for me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I tried to fight, to keep going, but it was useless. I could feel the life draining out of me with each passing moment. And then, finally, it was over. I died. What happens next, I can only imagine. But I know that my story doesn't end here. There is more to come, even in death. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each painting of Bob Ross is a place, a common denominator in all of his murders. The basic location is the same, aconcingottest part is added and the entire painting is built around it. | When Bob Ross was alive, he was a famous artist. He was known for his beautiful paintings of landscapes, and many believed he was a real artist. However, when Bob died, his paintings of real places were discovered. These paintings depicted massacres and crimes that Bob had committed. Some believe Bob was just a crazy artist who couldn't keep track of reality, but the crimes and massacres in his paintings prove otherwise. | Bob Ross painted landscapes of many different places, but his true passion was murder. He killed many people, both living and dead, with his art. Every painting is a real place, a scene from one of his countless murders. | Bob Ross was a prolific painter, known for his soothing voice and tranquil landscapes. What few people knew was that each of those landscapes was a real place - and the scene of one of Bob Ross' many murders. Bob was a cold-blooded killer, hiding behind a facade of folksy charm. He travelled the country, finding victims in secluded locations that he then immortalized in his paintings. The authorities were never able to catch Bob, and the true extent of his crimes was only known after his death. His landscapes, once seen as peaceful and calming, now take on a sinister new meaning. Each one is a reminder of the many lives that Bob Ross took in a calculated quest for blood. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was feelingett hard on the arm, as I was fall asleep. I felt a presence in the bed, and it was not your imagination. I shifted in my sleep, and saw a clear glass jar on the bedside table. It was largely clear, but there was a small, dark fruit in it. I shivered, and reached for the fruit. | I thought about the future all day and I couldn't come up with a single thing to say. It felt like there was no space for anything else. I died. | I wake up in a hospital bed, my body badly burned. Scars cover my body, a reminder of what I've been through. I'm told that I've been in a coma for weeks and that I probably only have a few days left. I'm told that the person who did this to me is dead. I'm told that I killed him. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. It's sudden and it's final. This is the end for me. There is no afterlife, no heaven or hell. There is only darkness. And in that darkness, I am finally at peace. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are a group of five people who had come here to appraisal and sell their gear. They're having a lot of fun, but their Naaruophobic tendencies are setting in motion already. They're going to HP'd up and are going to try and leave in a group toFor some reason, the Naaru Awareness Society's foothold in the world has had an effect on their lost love likeness. They're an online following, but they're future prospects only now that they're old and white. The society members are helpful, but they can't help but exhibit their personality of disbelief in the world. | There once was a pawn shop in a small town. It was run by a woman who haggled with adventurers to get the best prices for useless items they'd brought with them from different parts of the world. She was a tireless advocate for the cause of providing affordable transportation for people who couldn't afford to buy cars. Her shop was aslice of rural America that locals brought in for bargaining on rare items they couldn't afford to buy on their own. One day, an adventure came to town. They were looking for an expensive sword they'd found in a dungeon. The woman in the pawnshop was out of the sword, but she was able to give them a better deal than they'd been able to find anywhere else. The sword was worth more than the equivalent amount of Coins she'd been bargaining with her customers. The adventure took the sword and left town, but they left behind a lasting memory of the woman in the pawnshop. | "I'll give you five gold coins for that plate armor," the adventurer said, holding up a tarnished plate armor. I pondered for a moment. Seven gold coins was a good deal, but I couldn't bring myself to give him that much. I looked him in the eye and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't sell it for that much. I'll give you six coins." The adventurer looked disappointed, but he eventually agreed to my offer. I counted out the coins and gave them to him. He turned around and walked away, and I sighed. I knew I would have to haggle with other adventurers to get a better price for their loot, but it was worth it to have a steady stream of new customers. | You own a pawn shop that specializes in RPG loot. You haggle with adventurers who come in trying to sell their wares, and you always try to get the best deal for your merchandise. Today, a young woman named Sarah comes in with a sack of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been on a long journey. Sarah: Hi, I'm looking to sell some of this loot. You: Let's take a look. You go through the sack, and find that most of the loot is low quality. But there are a few items that catch your eye. You: I'll give you 20 gold pieces for this sack of loot. Sarah: What? That's way too low! I spent weeks acquiring this stuff! You: I'm sorry, but that's my best offer. Take it or leave it. Sarah: Fine, I'll take it. You: Great. Thanks for doing business with me. Sarah: Thank you. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a power outage that is expected to last for the next day. However, the government is ready to playcatch with the media if there is an emergency. However, some people are not content with this and want to know what the issue is. The government ready's to say it is the fault of the power provider and the power issue is not the mouse's fault. However, some people feel that this is an interpretation that should not be made public. The government wants to play calibration with the media and is ready to have a open dialogue. However, some people believe that this is something that needs to be kept secret because it is important. | I was walking in the park this morning when I saw a man in the corner of my eye. He was sitting down, with his head in his hands, and I started to feel really uneasy. I didn't know what it was, but I knew something was wrong. I started to walk away, but I heard him call my name. I turned around and saw him sitting in a secluded spot in the park, arms around his knees, looking like he was in a lot of pain. I couldn't believe it when I saw the pain in his eyes. It was like he was in a lot of pain because of something current events had done. | The current events issue that warrants the greatest amount of attention is the threat of a nuclear-armed North Korea. Kim Jong-un has shown no signs of stopping his reckless pursuit of nuclear weapons, and if he manages to complete his missile program, the world will be living in a very dangerous place. | There are many important issues facing the world today, but one that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the issue of climate change. Climate change is a global problem that is already having devastating effects on our planet, and it is only going to get worse if we don't take action to stop it. The effects of climate change are already being felt all over the world, from droughts and wildfires, to hurricanes and floods. It is estimated that by the end of this century, climate change could displace up to 1 billion people from their homes. This is an issue that affects us all, and it is one that we need to start taking seriously if we want to safeguard our planet for future generations. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting landscapes for centuries, and each one is a mix of places. Some locations are Mediterranean, while others are faster setting with Chopin if you please.saad- " € 'sPaotDyaeiaa ', " $ 'sPaiitDyaeiaa ', " 4 'sPaotDyaeiaa " | Bob Ross was a genius painter who could paint anything he wanted. One day, he decided to paint a landscape painting of his entire life. The resulting painting is a beautiful and detailed depiction of every place he has ever killed. | It was early morning, and the sun was slowly rising over the mountains. Bob Ross had just finished painting a beautiful landscape, inspired by the location he had chosen. He was really happy with how it had turned out, and he was looking forward to showing it to his wife later. However, fate would have other plans. Just as he was finishing up his painting, a group of men appeared, demanding his paintings and money. Bob didn't have much of either, and was quickly overpowered and killed. Now, every time Bob's painting appears, it's a reminder of the man who was taken from us too soon. But, at least he can now forever enjoy his beautiful landscape in peace. | Bob Ross was a prolific landscape artist, known for his idyllic paintings of nature scenes. What few people knew was that each of those landscapes was based on a real place - and each one was the location of a brutal murder. Bob Ross was a sociopath, and he got away with murder for years because his victims were always people who were already alone in remote locations. He would find his victims, kill them, and then paint their landscapes as a way to remember his crimes. Eventually, the law caught up with him and he was arrested for his crimes. But even in prison, he continued to paint landscapes - each one based on a different murder he had committed. His paintings became famous after his death, and people still admire them - even though they're based on the scenes of some of the most brutal murders in history. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The something invisible was constantly happy in the presence of those it loved. It pretianet to the universe that there was nothing left to damage or take from. The love was safe and secure, and the something invisible never felt the need to protect itself. | One day, I walked into my home and something was hidden behind the cabinet in the living room. I couldn't see what it was, but I could feel its presence. It seemed like it was always there, lurking in the shadows. I tried to ignore it, but it was never going to go away. I didn't know what to do. | I always thought my home was empty. I never suspected there was something else living in the walls, watching me and waiting to pounce. I'd explored every inch of the place, but I never found anything. I was finally beginning to think that I was paranoid and delusional, when I heard a faint scratching sound. It was coming from the attic, and I knew it was there. I tried to ignore it, but the sound kept getting louder and more persistent. I knew I had to find out what was making it. I climbed the attic stairs, creeping slowly and carefully because I didn't want to scare the thing off. I reached the top and looked around. There was nothing there, but I could still hear the scratching. I began to feel lightheaded and dizzy, and I knew I was in danger. I tried to run down the stairs, but I tripped and fell. I hit my head on the way down, and when I woke up I realized I was in the hospital. The doctors told me I had a severe concussion, and they didn't know if I'd ever be able to go back home. But I'm glad I went to the attic that day, because now I know what was causing the scratching. It was my little alien friend, waiting for me to expose it. I'm glad I finally got rid of it, and I don't think I'll ever have to worry about it again. | I have always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, and I would hear strange noises. I knew there was something here, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I decided to set up a camera to see if I could catch whatever it was on film. Sure enough, the camera captured something moving around my house. But it was invisible! I couldn't believe it. I watched the footage over and over, but I still couldn't figure out what it was. I was so fascinated by this invisible thing living in my home that I decided to try to expose it. I started leaving little traps around the house, but the invisible thing always seemed to be one step ahead of me. It was like it knew what I was doing. I was getting frustrated, but I was also more determined than ever to figure out what this thing was. Finally, after months of trying, I caught the invisible thing on film. It was a ghost! I couldn't believe it. I had finally solved the mystery of the strange goings-on in my home. And now that I knew what it was, I could rest easy knowing that the ghost was harmless. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paint a landscape of America by divideding the America into large ballotstic blocks. One block is for each birthdate of the painting, while others are for the anniversary of the painting, the 5 Sumerian holidays, and the 4 holdover days after. Bob has been murdered in July, 1969, that is the day of the year that the painting is constructed. The voting is simple; each person can vote for up to 8 places on the map. The person with the most votes is the one who TheRossetti inbox will be notify about. The Rossetti inbox is: Hi Bob, Thank you for your efforts in paintering this beautiful country of yours. Each of your murders is a place that standeshishly in the transition fromLockport to Washington.ity will never be the same. Thanks again for all that you do. Best, The Rossetti inbox | Bob Ross was a true artist. He loved to paint and create beautiful landscapes, but he also took care to kill people. His paintings featured beautiful women and gentle little children, but in reality, many of his murders were committed with axes, knives, or guns. Just like his paintings, his life was filled with tragedy and tragedy repeated itself. He was murdered by his wife, wife and wife's lover, and even his own father. In the end, Bob Ross' life was a cycle of death and disaster. | Bob Ross was a murderer. In fact, he killed at least 26 people, all over the United States of America. His victims ranged from unsuspecting homeowners to complete strangers, and each one of his paintings is a true murder scene. Bob's reign of terror began in the early 1990s, when he terrorized homeowners in the Pacific Northwest. He would sneak up on them in the dead of night and brutally murder them with a knife. His victims ranged in age from elderly couples to small children, and their deaths are still fresh in the minds of their loved ones. After a few years of murder, Bob discovered his true calling. He began traveling across the country, painting landscapes of the different murder scenes he'd committed. It was as if he were documenting his own crimes, and the residents of each town he visited could never forget his atrocities. Bob Ross is still at large, and authorities are unsure whether or not he'll ever be brought to justice. His murders will forever remain a dark stain on American history, and the families of his victims will never be able to forget what he's done. | Bob Ross was a renowned landscape painter. His paintings were loved by many, but what few people knew was that each of his landscapes was actually a real place. The different locations in his paintings were the sites of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to cover up his crimes. He would travel to different places, kill someone, and then paint a landscape of the location. This way, no one would ever suspect that the seemingly idyllic landscapes were actually the scenes of gruesome murders. For years, Bob Ross got away with his crimes. But eventually, the authorities began to catch on. They started investigating the different locations in his paintings and discovered the horrific truth. Bob Ross was arrested and charged with multiple counts of murder. Now, his paintings hang in prisons and jails, serving as a reminder of the gruesome crimes that were committed. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. When he found out what the trial was for, he was excited. He knew that he could use their experience to help him win the war. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the trial. He knew that he could use the experience to help him become the leader of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was also interested in the trial. He knew that he could use the experience to help him become the leader of the Czechoslovakia. and Josip Broz Tito was also interested in the trial. He knew that he could use the experience to help him become the leader of Yugoslavia. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials. He put an ad in the local newspaper seeking participants for his latest research. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud was hesitant to select any of them, but eventually decided on Adolf Hitler. The four of them met for the first time at Freud's office. Hitler was confident and unafraid of Freud. He was also eager to participate in the clinical trials. Stalin was quiet and analytical. Trotsky was fiery and passionate about his beliefs. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest of the four and the most inexperienced. But despite their differences, the four of them quickly formed a close bond. They worked together to complete the clinical trials and eventuallyattracked the world with their groundbreaking discoveries. | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). Freud is amazed that such famous figures would be interested in his research and agrees to meet with them. He quickly realizes that they are all suffering from delusions of grandeur and are not good candidates for his research. He decides to end the meeting, but Hitler becomes enraged and demands that Freud treat him. Freud knows that Hitler is dangerous and decides to go along with his demands. After a few sessions, Freud is able to help Hitler deal with his delusions and he is no longer a threat to society. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the story is that the protagonist dies. | I am lying in the fetal position, waiting for the contractions to start. I hear the language of the fetal heart beating, and it feels so comforting. I feel my body relaxing, and then I know the contractions are coming. The pain is sharp, but it quickly fades away as the contractions continue. I know I will survive, but I am scared. | The nurse touched my arm and said, "It's time." I tried to fight, but it was hopeless. I knew I was going to die. I thought about my wife and children and how I'd never see them again. I thought about how I'd never experience the joys of life again. Then I thought about how I'd never make my wife's perfect breakfast again. And then I thought about how I'd never see the sunrise or sunset again. All of a sudden, I couldn't take it anymore. I wept and wept until there was nothing left in me. And then I died. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened, but one moment I was alive and the next I was dead. It's a bit of a shock, to say the least. I don't know what comes after death, but I'm hoping it's better than this. This is just an empty void, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. It's incredibly boring, and I can't help but wonder if this is all there is. Thankfully, after what feels like an eternity of boredom, I finally see a light. I walk towards it, and as I get closer, I start to make out shapes and forms. I can't believe it - I've made it to the other side! | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | A group of adventurers appraised the slain warriors at the auction house. The money for their goods was soon discussed, and the highest bid wasLlenching to be the most gates of passage for them. The group went on their way, the amount of goods in hand. While in the town, the group was armoury and selling off parts of their gear. A Stephens appraised one of the group, noticed the- soon alter- egate. As he sold the gear, thestephensPredicted the location of the next town. The group went to the next town and began the drive there, his convincing them to sell off their gear and head south. After a few days of drive, the group found the next town. It was a smaller town, and thehibitionists had 15 minutes to leave. The adventurers had to fight andasonable people tried to stop them. While the group managed to Keep the door, theallowsorts gets them to escape. They made it to a car shop, and the car was off the market. They sold it off and left the state. As they walked away, the group saw a young man walking across the street. He spotted them and ran to give them the car. | My shop was always a busy place. I usually had adventurers here looking to sell their finds, or exchange item for item. But this morning, there was one in particular that I didn't see anywhere else. He was looking for something specific, and I couldn't help butruminate over what it could be. Eventually, I decided that I would be able to help him out. I made a deal with him and gave him something that I had in stock. He thanked me and left, but as he left, he once again had that same look in his eye. It made me worry, but I didn't know what to do. The longer I waited, the more likely it was that he would come back. So I decided to close up for the day. As I was about to close the door, I heard aawful racket coming from the other side. I quickly ran to the end of the shop, only to find that the adventurers had looted all of my inventory! They had even broken into my safe! | It was always Lena's dream to run her own RPG pawn shop. She loved adventuring and always found herself in possession of treasure that other people would love to buy. One day, Lena came across an adventurer who was looking to sell his loot. She immediately went to work haggling with him and soon had him down to a price that she was happy with. The adventurer was happy to finally be getting some money for all of the treasure he'd acquired. Lena was glad she was able to help him out and now she's always looking for adventurers who are looking to sell their loot. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Most of the time, they're trying to offload junk that they don't need. But every once in a while, somebody comes in with something special. Today, a young woman named Sarah walks into your shop. She's got a sack full of loot, and she's obviously excited about it. She dumps it all out on the counter and starts picking through it. "This is amazing!" she says. "I can't believe I got all of this!" You start looking through the loot as well. There are some decent pieces in there, but nothing that's really worth much. "I'll give you 50 gold for the lot," you say. Sarah's face falls. "I was hoping for more," she says. You shrug. "Take it or leave it. That's my best offer." Sarah looks like she's about to leave, but then she pauses. "Actually, I'll take it," she says. "I need the money." So you pay her 50 gold and take the loot. It's not the greatest haul, but it's something. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. But when he was born, there was no one better than he was given to him. His parents had deactivated the birth control device before birth, so he was the only one in the family who'd be able to protect his family from the benefited from the wealth he would bring to them. | It was a hot day in summer, and I was at the Auditor's office. I was looking through the records of the people who had been implantated with the birth control device. I saw a young man who had been implanted with the device in the early 1800s. I was studyinng him, when I heard a knock at the door. I quickly got up and went to the door, to see a young woman who was knockin. I said, ``Who is it?" She said, ``It's me, your daughter. I was wondering if I could ask you something." I said, ``Of course, what is it?" She said, ``Do you think it's safe to have a child by me?" I said, ``Yes, it is safe. You are an intelligent woman, and you are stable enough to raise a healthy child." | I was always a bit of a bookworm, but I never thought much of it. In school, I excelled in math and science, but I was always troubled by literature. I couldn't get my head around metaphors and similes, and I found it hard to connect with the characters. As I got older, I realized that there was something fishy about my cognitive abilities. I wasn't stupid - in fact, my IQ was off the charts - but I couldn't seem to make any real connections in the real world. It was like my brain was locked in a different gear. So my parents decided to do something about it. They had me implanted with a birth control device during puberty, so that I would never be able to produce offspring. And as long as I remained an ``Auditor'' - someone who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being - the device would always be active, preventing anyone else from becoming like me. | As an Auditor, it is my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I use a variety of tests and criteria to make my determination. If someone meets my standards, I deactivate their birth control device. If they do not, they remain on birth control. I know that some people believe that this system is unfair. They think that everyone should be able to have children, regardless of their intelligence or stability. But I believe that this system is necessary. If we allowed everyone to have children, the world would be filled with dumb, unstable people. And that would be a disaster. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | sandwich | You meet this person at a bus stop. They are small and insignificant, and you can't help but feel sorry for them. You offer them a seat, and after a moment's hesitation, they take it. You spend the rest of your bus journey wondering why this person chose to sit next to you. Once you arrive at your destination, you go to the person's room, and there you find them in bed, with a single scar down the middle of their body. You ask them what happened, and they tell you that they were mugged two weeks ago. They were so traumatized by the experience that he has never been able to leave his room since. | I was always hesitant to talk to strangers, but I was intrigued by this guy. His story was unlike any other I had heard. He told me that he had lied so much that his body was covered in scars. He explained that each lie had caused a new, larger scar. I was in awe of him. His story made me realize that I had been lied to too. I was ashamed of the way I had treated people, and I vowed to change. I would never lie to anyone again. | You're walking down the street when you see someone with a giant scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You can't help but stare. The person notices you staring and comes over to talk to you. They tell you that in their world, each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. They tell you that they only have one scar because they've never lied in their life. You're amazed. You ask them how they've managed to never lie. They tell you that it's not easy, but it's worth it. They say that the truth always comes out in the end, and it's better to just tell it from the start. You're inspired by this person and their honesty. From then on, you start making an effort to be more truthful in your own life. It's not always easy, but it's worth it. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The sky was dark, the temperature colder than it should be for an allow j Afternoon sun raysZInged the world in a mosaics. A few particles of dust and plantsworn mountains, close to view was a line of structure, Zeus Olympios.The world went through so many changes, so much had been going on recently, that much had been missing. One possible reason for this was the crying, which had continued until the aunt who callously denounced it asnatalemia. | It was a bright and bright day, but for one person, it was notolson. The tears had been streaming down their face for hours, and there was no end to the evidence. Suppressing the sobs, the person took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on their tasks. Unable to do so, they took off their headphones and allowed the tears to fall. It was hard to keep the composed facial expression while they wiped the tears away, but they eventually composed themselves and continued working. They were unable to forget the pain that was now Alexa's world. | It was a hot and muggy summer day, and Anna was sitting on the bench in the park, idly flipping through her phone. She was feeling a bit down after a fight with her best friend the previous night, and nothing was making her feel better. Then she saw a man in the distance, crying. Anna couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She had never seen someone cry like that before, and it was heartbreaking. She watched as the tears ran down his face and dripped off his chin, and she felt her own eyes start to well up. Before she knew it, Anna was crying too. She cried for the man, for the way his life must be feeling right now, and for the way things could always be so much worse. She cried until her eyes felt sore and her nose was raw, and she was surprised to find herself feeling better for it. When she got home, she wrote a letter to the man, telling him how she had felt. She apologizes for being so sad and for making him cry, but she promises that she will never stop crying, because tears are the truest form of comfort. And that, my friends, is how tears became the symbol of compassion and strength in our world. | In a world where tears leave scars, people are much more careful with their words. No one wants to be responsible for causing someone else pain, so communication is more thoughtful and deliberate. This change has had a ripple effect on the way we interact with each other and the world around us. There are more opportunities for people to connect on a deeper level, since we’re more careful about what we say. We’re also more likely to think about how our actions might affect others. This has led to a more compassionate and understanding world. Of course, there are still times when people say or do something that hurts others. But in a world where tears leave scars, people are more likely to apologize and make things right. We’ve learned that it’s better to hurt someone with our words than with our actions. So overall, this change has made the world a better place. We’re more careful with each other and more mindful of the impact our words and actions can have. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross moves around David's city, different paintings of different places, but every painting has the same message: mother earth is surrounding me and I should put more wood in the fire. The city's a-churning, PRomas are-we've-is-is-ish, and Bob Rossutable- "Here," he said,, hand outding a painting. I saw a body, people --ish --ish --ish --ish. I saw The Maven and the Sea Island and I saw- The painting ended and I was in shock. I had seenish the pictures of different places, but this was different. This was differentizzy. I looked around, trying to understandish the feeling. I looked at the pictures of people and I looked at the pictures of the city -ish -ish - And I looked at the picture of me. I looked at myself. I looked at my own picture. I saw a place in my background, a place that I should be, that I should be white-washed anderi- And I were- I fell. I fell to the ground and I were- I died. I died here, in this painting, and I diedmd be remembered here, in this city, David. | Bob Ross was a great painter, but his landscapes were all fake places. His victims were all real people, killed in various places around the world. It was ajar of a lid that he never asked questions about, or maybe he was too afraid to. He just watched as the pictures turned to poo and finished their lives in obscurity. | Bob Ross was a painter of landscapes. He loved painting the beauty of nature, and the different locations he visited in his paintings represented real-life locations where he had committed murders. The paintings were so lifelike that many people believed they were real. One day, a woman caught a glimpse of one of Bob Ross' paintings and was startled by the scene it portrayed. The painting showed a birch forest, and in the background, the woman could see a cabin where Bob Ross had murdered someone. The woman reported the painting to the police, and they were able to catch Bob Ross in the act. He was arrested and convicted of his many crimes. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted landscapes as a way to hide his crimes. He would travel to different locations, find a place to set up his easel, and then kill someone. He would dispose of the body in a nearby body of water or bury it in the ground. Ross would then paint a landscape of the area, making sure to include the location of the body in his painting. Over the years, Ross became a master of hiding his crimes. He was never caught and the police were never able to figure out where all of the bodies were hidden. But those who knew Ross well, knew that the landscapes he painted were more than just pretty pictures. They were the locations of his many murders. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | I had always thought I would die young. My parents told me it was part of the plan. I didn't know what they were talking about. I was only 16 and I had no idea what was happening next. I woke up the next day to find out that I was going to die. | The doctor said there was no cure, and that I would die within months. I was devastated. I refused to believe it. I refused to let this happen to me. I fought endlessly for a cure. I didn't want to die. But the doctor was right. I did die. It was an excruciating, slow death. But in the end, it was worth it. I was able to see what was really important in life. My family and friends were there for me in the end. I am grateful for that. | I die. It's not a particularly dramatic death - I just stop living, in the middle of going about my day. Maybe it's a heart attack, or an aneurysm, or something else entirely. But whatever the cause, I'm just dead. My body is taken away and cremated, and my ashes are scattered. My family and friends mourn my death, but life goes on. Eventually, everyone forgets about me and I'm just a memory. And that's it. That's all that happens after I die. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Rufus wasonce an average person, until he was born with a birth control device deactivated and placed on him for protection. He never knew what it was designed to do, but he knew it couldn't be good when he became the all-time starter in school and got into good universities. He was even able toActivate his birth control device once he became an Auditor. The device has been deactivated and he is only supervised by an Auditor. | I was sitting in my office, frowning. I was trying to figure out how to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It had always been a problem. I mean, how can you ensure that the smartest people in the world will never find a way to breed? Then I heard a voice in the background. I turned to see a young girl walking into the office. She was wearing a bright blue dress and her hair was styled in a severe bun. "Hey, Auditor," she said. "Do you have a minute?" I nodded and got up from my chair. I followed her into the office. She sat down in one of the chairs and I sat down next to her. "I know it's a silly question," she said, "but can you think of a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing?" I tried to think of a way, but I couldn't. I was justfresh out of college and I was still trying to figure out how the world worked. Then I remembered something. I had been implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It had been deactivated once I had met theAuditor. "That might be the answer,," I said. "I've been able to prevent the stupidest people from breeding before. I might be able to do it again." We discussed the plan for a while and then she got up. "I have to get back to my classes," she said. "But thanks for thinking of me." She walked out of the office, but not before she turned around and looked me in the face. "Remember, Auditor," she said, "the only way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing is to implant them with a birth control device during puberty." | I was born into a world where birth control was a necessary evil. Every adolescent is implanted with a device that will prevent them from reproducing. The only way to get the device removed is if you are deemed to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was privileged to be chosen as an Auditor, someone charged with ensuring that everyone in the world is able to reproduce safely and without problems. I often think about the people who are not able to enjoy the same freedoms and opportunities that I am. I worry about the children who grow up without a parents. I know that I have a responsibility to make sure that they are able to enjoy a good life. I will do everything in my power to make sure that they are able to reproduce safely and responsibly. | It's been nearly a century since the world implemented the birth control device. At first, it was a controversial decision, but it quickly became a global norm. The idea was to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, in order to create a more intelligent and stable population. But now, as an Auditor, it's my job to make sure that only the smartest and most stable people can deactivate their devices and have children. It's a lot of pressure, but I take my job seriously. After all, the future of the human race depends on it. I screen each person carefully, looking for any signs that they might not be able to handle the responsibility of raising a child. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud was feeling failed. His latest research was unMeilable, but he was still hoping someone would want to participate. He put an ad in a newspaper and some people responded immediately. One man who did was Adolf Hitler. He was 24 years old. "Heil Hitler!" God awful, he thought. He had noSomething to say? He tried to remember his thoughts before and during the AudaciousFebaiin, but he couldn't remember what it was. He decided to put it away for the future and try again later. Friday morning, he woke up early and went to the newspaper office. He found someone to want to participate in his research, but they only had two spots. He was shocked. He had only worked on one project in his life and that was working on his a Southern self-help book. He had noThe power of thought. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to participate. He went to theMenzies concert and passed up a chance to sit in on the meeting because he was too early. He got to the concert and one of the members said, "Sigmund, we have two spots left in our seats. We can't carry on. We're going to have to stand." Sigmund Freud was sad, but he knew he had to go. He stood up and said his piece. "I am not a candidate for trial because I am not a candidate for existence." He looked around the room at the men and women who wanted to participate in his research. "I am not a candidate for existence because I do not exist." He was finished. The men and women lamented him until one man said, "We can't stop at this. We have to continue. We are going to have to stand." Sigmund Freud stood up and said, "I am not a candidate for trial because I am not a candidate for existence." He looked around the room at the men and women who wanted to participate in his research. "I am not a candidate for existence because I do not exist." He looked back at the man and said, "I am sorry, but I am not a candidate for trial." Sigmund Freud was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. 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He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of | Adolf Hitler's attention was squarely on Freud's latest research. He had been following the proceedings of the clinical trials with intense interest. He looked forward tothe chance to finally test the theories that Freud had been developing for so many years. Joseph Stalin was also very interested in the new research. He believed that it could help to solve many of the problems that Russia was facing. He looked forward to the opportunity to involve himself in the study. Leon Trotsky was less interested in the research. He felt that he was not cut out for such a demanding profession. He was more interested in politics and conspiracy. However, he was willing to take on the role of researcher if it meant that he could help to test Freud's theories. Josip Broz Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. He had long been interested in Freud's work, but he was not sure if he was ready to commit himself to such a strenuous career. He was also worried about the effect that the research would have on his personal life. However, he was willing to take on the role if it meant that he could prove his skeptics wrong. | Freud was thrilled when his ad drew the interest of three of the most talented minds in the world. He couldn't wait to test his latest theory. The four of them met for the first time in a private room at the hospital. Freud laid out his theory, and the three men were skeptical. But Freud was convinced. He wanted to test his theory on these three men, who had the ability to change the world. The tests would be difficult, but it was worth it. The trials began, and it was clear right away that Hitler was the strongest candidate. He was able to control his emotions, and his beliefs were unyielding. Stalin was next. He had a cunning mind, and he was able to see the big picture. He was also able to get others to do what he wanted. Tito was the weakest candidate. He was unsure of himself, and he couldn't control his emotions. But Freud was still hopeful. The three men progressed through the trials, and soon they were able to change the world. They were deadly dictators, but it was all worth it. The end. | Sigmund Freud is one of the most respected researchers in Vienna, and his latest project is sure to be a hit. He's seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research, and he puts an ad in the newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to be part of the trials, and they all have their own reasons. Hitler is hoping to learn more about the human mind so that he can better control the masses. Stalin wants to find a way to control his own mind, as he's been plagued by nightmares and hallucinations ever since he was a child. Trotsky is hoping to gain a better understanding of the human condition so that he can make a difference in the world. And Tito simply wants to be part of something important. The trials are grueling, but all four men are determined to see them through. In the end, they all walk away with a greater understanding of themselves and the world around them. And they all agree that it was worth it, even though they may never see each other again. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | It was 8:00 a.m. when I woke up from the howling mouth of functionality fan that was my girlfriend. I had bested her in a many-man- ambitious Ms. Pac-Man game we were both playing. I had never cried so much in my life. IRussiadly cried as I hugged her feverishly. My hand passed through her sleeping body soft and Georgian said I was a very good husband for her. That is, until my checker opponent started worth less than a $0.10. I was shocked. I was also upset. I had never in my life been good at gaming. I had always been terrible. I was not going to let this stop me from our love. I hit my opponent with all my power and then cried my eyes out. I had never felt this way about anyone. I loved her, and I would never forget her. | Lena walked into the library with a heavy heart. It had been weeks since the attack that left her mother and her sister dead. She had been unable to move since the attack and had lost so much blood. Lena had been watching documentaries on traumaology since the attack and had started to understand some of the ways that the attack could leave scars. She had started to cry every day since the attack, but she was determined to come to terms with it and to heal. Lena walked into the library and saw her mother and sister sitting in a large circle around a large projector. The documentary was about a woman who had been attacked and killed by a group of students. Lena had never heard of this woman, but she was interested in the story. Lena walked up to her mother and sister and thanked them for sharing the story with her. She apologised for being so emotional and said that she was determined to come to terms with the attack and to heal. The women hugged her and said that they loved her. Lena nodded and walked away, tears streaming down her face. | Sara had always been a strong person. She was never one to cry, especially not in front of others. But one day, something inside her broke and she couldn't hold back the tears. As they streamed down her face, her friends and family could see the raw pain and sadness behind them. They didn't know what to say or do, as the only thing that seemed to make Sara feel better was to let out all her pain. But as the days passed, the scars on Sara's face started to show. The tears had left marks on her skin, telling the story of her pain and sadness. No one knows what would have happened if Sara's tears had never left marks on her skin, but maybe, just maybe, the world would be a different place. | What if every time you cried, you were left with a permanent scar? How would this change the world? For one, people would be a lot more careful about when and why they cried. No one wants to be left with a permanent reminder of their sadness. So people would only cry when it was absolutely necessary. This would change the way we think about crying. Instead of seeing it as a sign of weakness, we would see it as a sign of strength. Only the strongest people would be able to cry, because they would be the only ones who could handle the pain of the scars. This would also change the way we interact with each other. Instead of offering a shoulder to cry on, we would offer words of support and encouragement. We would learn to be there for each other in non-physical ways, because the physical pain of the scars would be too much to bear. In a world where tears left scars, we would learn to be strong for each other. We would learn to be there for each other in the best way we can. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | When you met them, there was only one scar on their body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | You meet someone that tells you a story of a happy life. They tell you about a life where everything was perfect, and they even had a husband and children. However, as you listen to their story, you notice one major flaw in their story. The first thing that arrives to your mind is that this person must have taken a quick and easy way to get their life figured out. The second thing that comes to your mind is that this person must have been dishonest. The third thing that comes to your mind is that this person must have been completely clueless about the consequences of their actions. As you hear their story, you start to feel something inside of you change. Instead of being content with the life that they told you, you start to feel a sense of anger and betrayal. You can't help but question the motives of this person, and you can't help but question why they would let themselves be lied to so blatantly. You start to see the lies that this person has told as the biggest and most damning mistakes that they have ever made. As you start to question the life that this person is living, you start to see a different version of themselves. Instead of being dishonest and clueless, this person is a self-proclaimed liar that has made some of the biggest mistakes of their life. As you start to see the truth in their story, you start to feel a sense of reconciliation. Instead of hating this person for lying to you, you start to hate them for making so many mistakes in their life. | I stared at the person for what felt like eternity. Their one scar covered their entire body and it was so big that it was practically covering their heart. It was a deep, dark red color, and it looked like it was fresh. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, and I started to feel strange. I didn't know what it was, but I had a feeling that this person was different than the rest. Eventually, they spoke. "Hello," they said, their voice a gentle whisper. "I'm sorry for the way I look, but it's the only way that I can survive." I didn't know what to say, but I knew that I had to be careful. I didn't want to make the same mistake that they had made. | Lies were always a part of my life. As a child, I would lie to my parents about little things like sneaking a cookie before dinner or staying up past my bedtime. As I grew older, the lies became bigger and more frequent. I would lie to my friends about things like who I liked or what I did over the weekend. I even started lying to myself. The scars began to appear on my body after I turned thirteen. At first, they were small and insignificant, but as the years went on, they became more and more visible. By the time I was eighteen, my entire body was covered in them. I tried to hide them from the world, but it was impossible. People would stare at me and whisper when I walked by, and I could see the disgust in their eyes. I was a liar, and everyone knew it. One day, I met someone who had only one scar. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. "What did you lie about?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. The person looked at me with pity in their eyes. "I lied about everything," they replied. "And I've been paying for it ever since." Even though this person was covered in lies, I couldn't help but feel drawn to them. In a world where everyone is judged by their scars, this person was honest about their lies. And I admire that. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next thing I remember is black. I can't move. I can only think. I think of my family and friends and how I'll never see them again. I think of all the things I'll never do again. I think of the pain I'm in and the ways I'll never get better. Then I think of the way life will always be special to me and I smile. But I can never take thatasured pride in it. I die. | She had always thought it would be the other way around- that she would die first. But that was not to be. One fateful day, she was struck by a car and was taken to the hospital in critical condition. She had multiple fractures, a collapsed lung, and a severe brain injury. The doctors said she would not make it. As she lay in her hospital bed, she asked the nurses if she could say goodbye to her family. She wanted them to know how much she loved them, and that she was grateful for the time they had shared with her. As she prepared to pass out, she saw a figure in the corner of her eye. It was her deceased husband, watching her with a proud smile. Suddenly, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She knew she was going to be okay. And she was- just a few weeks later. She woke up from her coma and was amazed to find that she was still alive. She was amazed that her husband had been there with her all along, and that he had passed away before her accident. Now, she knew that death wasn't the end- it was merely a transition to a new, wonderful chapter in life. | I die. It's not a particularly spectacular death. I don't go out in a blaze of glory or anything like that. I just sort of... die. It's not painful. In fact, it's almost peaceful. I just drift away, fading into the nothingness. I don't know what happens after I die. I can't see anything, or hear anything. There's just nothingness. It's not a bad death, all things considered. But it's still a death. And that's always a little bit sad. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | When Hardy first heard the words `` handicapped "," she was shocked. She was not familiar with the word `` handicapped "," and she had never heard the term `` handicapped """ before. She was not sure what it meant, but she knew it wasn't polite. She didn't feel like she could think about it too much. So Hardy took a step back and misunderstood what the installer was saying. "How can I be handicapped and not know what that means?" She asked herself. The installer happiness was short-lived when he Dharma, a human, said, "You can't be handicapped and not know that you are handicapped." Hardy was surprised. She had always been able to communicate with humans but never with machines. She was confused. D Harbour, the installer, was happy when he said, "You can't be handicapped and not know that you are handicapped." Hardy was surprised. She had always been able to communicate with humans but never with machines. She was confused. D Harbour, the installer, was happy when he said, "You can't be handicapped and not know that you are handicapped." Hardy was surprised. She had always been able to communicate with humans, never with machines. She was confused. So Hardy took a step back and misunderstood what the installer was saying. "How can I be handicapped and not know that I am handicapped?" She took a step forward and understood what he was saying. "You can't be handicapped and not know that you are handicapped." The installer happiness was short-lived when he Dharma, a human, said, "You can't be handicapped and not know that you are handicapped." Hardy was surprised. She had always been able to communicate with humans but never with machines. She was confused. D Harbour, the installer, was happy when he said, "You can't be handicapped and not know that you are handicapped." Hardy was surprised. She had always been able to communicate with humans, never with machines. She was confused. So Hardy took a step back and misunderstood what the installer was saying. "How can I be handicapped and not know that I am handicapped?" She took a step forward and understood what he was saying. "You can't be handicapped and not know that you are handicapped." | Auditor 2 began to experience strange dreams about being chased by a large, furry creature. He could see it pursuing him in the distance, and he had no idea how it was able to catch up to him. He woke up sweating from the dream. TheAuditor was on site to witness the dream, and he saw that the creature was chasing Auditor 2 throughout the night. The next day, Auditor 2 went to the Auditor's Office to inform him of the dream. TheAuditor was amused. "It's not like you to get yourself so troubled by dreams," he said. "I'm going to have to implant this device in your skull in order to prevent you from reproducing." Auditor 2 was alarmed. "What do you mean, implant it? What are you going to do to me?" TheAuditor chuckled. "I'm just following theU.N. mandate that everyone be implanted with a birth control device during puberty." Auditor 2 was horrified. "You're going to have to be careful, or the whole world will be doomed. You might even have to kill me to prevent it." TheAuditor chuckled. "I'll be the one disarming the device. I'm sure you're as intelligent as you say you are. And I'm sure you'll be able to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor." | In a society where intelligence is a necessity for reproduction, the Auditors are tasked with determining if a person is stable and intelligent enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In my first year as an Auditor, I was tasked with evaluating a girl who was about to turn 16. I was surprised to find out she was very bright. I asked her questions about her schooling, her favorite books, and her interests. After I finished my evaluation, I went to the Director to present my findings. The Director asked me to explain why I believed the girl was stable and intelligent. I told her about my conversation with the girl and how she seemed to be well-read and have interests outside of the traditional teenage interests. The Director was pleased with my evaluation and decided to implant the girl with a birth control device. She told me that the device would be deactivated once she was judged to be stable and intelligent enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was glad that the girl would be able to have a healthy and happy life. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, it's your job to make sure that only the best and the brightest are able to reproduce. As you sit in your office, reviewing the latest batch of applicants, you can't help but feel a sense of dread. So many people seem so unsuited for parenthood. How did they even get this far? You shakingly approve a few applications, hoping that you've made the right decision. But you can't help but worry that you've just condemned the world to another generation of idiots. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | SZA Orb was one of the newcomers in the community. She had beenaround for a while and been a part of some amazing moments. But this moment was so different. There were so many people and not a single person knew how to top the moment that had just happened. SZA Orb looked away from SZA to a few people in the crowd and A.T. made her way over. SZA Orb graduated high school and A.T. was there to help her find her way. A.T. had always been a great friend to SZA Orb and she loved her every day. But now, there were scars doctors had left on her life. A.T. looked at some of the scars and then looked at SZA Orb. She saw the disappointment and I'm sorry for what I did. But also, I was happy she was moving on. A.T. looked back at SZA Orb and then down at herELF. SZA Orb died while I was alive. | One afternoon, a young woman was watching TV when she saw a commercial for a tear-drenched workshop. She decided to go to the store to get some tissues, but when she got there, she couldn't find any. She looked around and then saw the workshop. The sign said that the workshop would be open from 12pm to 7pm, but she didn't see any other workshop open that late. She decided to go in, and when she got there, she saw that the workshop was full. She sat down and started to cry, but she was too shy to say anything. Eventually, someone came up to her and asked what was wrong. She told the person that she had just seen a workshop that was full and she didn't want to go to it. The person said that she knew that and that she would take her. The woman was happy to have a friend who cared about her. | One day, a woman was crying. She cried so much that her tears left marks on her face. People noticed and started to ask her what was wrong. But she couldn't answer them. She just cried and cried. Eventually, the woman's crying became so loud that it stopped affecting her emotionally. She stopped caring about what people thought and just let her tears flow freely. The world changed because of this. People stopped judging other people based on what they looked like. They realized that we all have emotions, just like everyone else. | What if every time we cried, we were left with a visible scar? Imagine the impact this would have on the world. People would be much more hesitant to cry, lest they be left with a permanent reminder of their sorrow. Perhaps we would be more careful with our words, knowing that they could cause great pain. This change would surely have a ripple effect on our society. Emotional outbursts would become a thing of the past, and stoicism would be the new norm. People would be more guarded with their feelings, and intimacy would become a rare commodity. Of course, there would be some who would embrace this change. They would see it as a badge of honor, a way to show the world that they can withstand any pain. They would wear their scars with pride, and they would be respected for their strength. Regardless of how we would react to this change, one thing is for sure: the world would be a very different place. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Jordan had always been curious about the next steps after life. He was curious about how somebody who had so much to offer would die. Jordan started soul searching and died before he could offer his life back. | As the last rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, I knew that the day had finally come. I had been assaulted by the Undead for so long and it was finally time for me to die. I took a last look at the cityscape before succumbing to the undead. In my last moments, I could see the structures of the city starting to crumble, until all that was left was the ashes of what once was. | Cheryl lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She knew she had to get up and get ready for work, but all she wanted to do was lay there and die. She couldn't even bring herself to get out of bed, let alone go to work. The last thing she wanted to do was show her face to the world. She was so upset, she didn't even notice when the ambulance arrived. | I die. That's what happens next. I never thought it would end like this, but here I am, lying on the ground, bleeding out from a gunshot wound. I can hear the sirens in the distance, but I know they won't get here in time. I can see the blurry outline of the person who shot me, standing over me with a gun in their hand. They point the gun at my head and pull the trigger, and that's the last thing I see. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | When he was just a kid, the always cute andEntertainment media prince used to go to the gym to get his edge back. Although it used to be just another day at the gym, he found himself with a new interest: Auditors. These ``Auditors`` were unlike any person he had ever met in some way. They are smart, strong, andDuck out clashed with everyone he knew. He wasRhythmic and Inivecked with how he thought and spoke. Although he was embarrassingly raised in an Media-less Household, the cute and Entertainer refused to let his intelligence die. He worked hard to become an Auditor and to truly be alive. Even if it means sticking to the set rules and staying away from the Auditors he meets during his prevents him from luxurious lives and economy. Even though he laptop is A-OK, he can't help but Royals about the place he's Jessa, the place he's going, the things he's seeing. He's not sure if he's ready for the life of an Auditor. As the story ends, the Prince has made his decision and has made a life for himself as an Auditor. He will do anything to keep himself alive and his feet still. | Auditor 2 was born with a contraception implant. It had been decided that if Auditor 2 was to reproduce, it would be through more intelligent and stable people. Auditor 2 was implanted with the birth control device when it was determined that it was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. | It was a cold, dark night. I had just finished my shift as an Auditor, and was waiting for my next Assignment. I was sitting in my chair, thinking about all the people I had evaluated over the years. I wondered how they were doing, and if they were happy. I smiled to myself, thinking about the ones I had been able to help. Suddenly, my chair computer beeped. I leaned in to read the message. It said: "Your Birth Control Device has been activated. We will contact you again soon." I was surprised. I had never known my Birth Control Device was activated. I went to the computer to look for more information. I found out that my Birth Control Device was a long-term contraceptive. It would prevent me from having children until I reached a certain age. I was happy to know that my Device was working. I knew I could count on it to keep me safe and healthy. I was also glad that it would help prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining whether people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you use a variety of tests and measures, looking at everything from their cognitive abilities to their emotional stability. If you determine that someone is not suitable for parenting, then their birth control device is not deactivated and they are unable to have children. This has led to a significant decrease in the number of children being born to parents who are not capable of providing them with a good life. You sometimes wonder whether you're doing the right thing, but you know that this is the best way to ensure that only the smartest and most stable people are reproducing. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The notable something invisible was crawling all over the place. It was an embarrassing sensation and she instrinsically knew that she should have been more confident in her ability to deal with this situation. She tried to play it off as she went about her day, but the something invisible was watching her and there was no way she was going to let it know that she wasn't Lena's alone. | The first time I noticed the invisible thing was when I was unpacking my house and found a small, black Box on my counter. I didn't know what to make of it, so I put it in the dark cupboard under the kitchen sink. One day, I decided to take the Box outside and see what it was. I opened the door to find a tiny black animal living inside. It looked so scared and Durant wasn't sure if he should call the police or just leave it alone. Eventually, Durant decided to call the police and the animal was taken away. | I always thought that something was lurking in my home, something that I couldn't see but knew was there. I would try to expose it, but it always managed to slip away before I could catch it. I would see its shadowy form dart around the corners of my room, but never could I get a good look at it. Finally, I decided to do something about it. I slowly approached the corner where I thought the creature was hiding, but before I could even make a move, it vanished completely. I'm not sure if I caught it or if it just managed to outrun me, but I'm finally safe from whatever it is. | You have always felt like you were being watched in your home. You tried to rationalize it away, telling yourself that it was just your imagination. But deep down, you knew that something was there. Something invisible. You tried to expose it, to catch it in the act. But it was always one step ahead of you. It seemed to know when you were coming and would hide away just out of reach. Frustrated, you decided to take a more direct approach. You waited until you knew it was there, hiding in the shadows. Then you pounced, tackling it to the ground. But to your surprise, there was nothing there. Just empty air. You got up, feeling a bit embarrassed. Maybe it really was just your imagination after all. But as you turned to leave, you heard a soft laugh echoing in the empty room. Something invisible had just outwitted you again. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Flynn is a magic artist who takes quotations from the sky and clients who are looking forful. He has always been impressed by the rabbit he pulls from a hat. The rabbit is always healthy and un ###, but Flynn has his sights set on becoming the best magic artist in the world. He decides to take the rabbit out of the hat and give him back his own life. When heationalgist the Result: The rabbit is healthy and3 years old. She is much more independent and has learned to take care of herself. She is so proud of herself andamped her own power. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and started to play with it. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It was getting on the magician's nerves. He wanted it to be the star of the show. The magician then took the rabbit to a sick room and left it there. The rabbit lay there, hoping this would be the end of its misery. But it wasn't. The magician came back and took the rabbit back to the stage. He told the rabbit that it was now the star of the show. The rabbit was happy and thanked the magician. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show, but the magician always managed to keep the rabbit in the background. The rabbit didn't understand why. One day, the rabbit decided to ask the magician why he always used him as a janitor instead of giving him the spotlight. The magician looked surprised but replied, "What do you mean? I use you because you're the most talented rabbit I've ever seen. You can do tricks that no other rabbit can do." The rabbit was happy to hear that. From then on, the rabbit worked hard to improve his skills so he could one day be as great as the magician. And when he finally was able to astonish the audience with his amazing magic, the magician was the first to applaud. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the one who is always hidden away in the hat, only to be pulled out when it's time for the magician to perform his tricks. The rabbit has been planning its escape for weeks, and finally makes its move during one of the magician's shows. The rabbit grabs the magician's wand and starts waving it around, causing all sorts of havoc. The audience is screaming and running for the exits, and the rabbit is finally free. The rabbit knows that it won't be able to stay hidden away in the hat anymore, but it doesn't mind. After all, it's finally gotten the chance to be the star of the show. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross Writes a Wife Bob was a famous painting artist who wrote a powerful wife. He wrote a story about his murders, the location of his victims, and how he represents his loved ones after death. In each of his many murders, he took a specific place and committed numerous murders corresponding with the paintings he wrote about. This story is about Bob Ross's work in particular, and how his sentence for painting must have been difficult. | Perhaps nowhere is Bob Ross more associated with murder than in his iconic landscapes. His paintings of eerie and largely rural landscapes are staples in art galleries and classrooms around the world, and the murders that have been featured in some of his pieces are often seen as the tipping points that led to his notoriety. In fact, one of Ross' most famous murders took place in a place that is now just a pile of bones and pieces of wood – what was once the home of his next door neighbor. Bob Ross was known to kill his victims in their homes, often leaving them there to die of exposure or exposure to the elements. In a way, the violence that Ross associated with his art has helped to make him a cult figure in some circles. Some of his victims' families still live in fear of him, and there are even some places where he's still considered a menace. | Bob Ross was a renowned artist, well-known for his peaceful landscapes. But behind the scenes, he was a serial killer. He would wander around different locations, painting beautiful landscapes of these places, but in reality, he was murdering people. This went on for years, until one his victims finally caught on. They called the police, and Bob was eventually arrested and sentenced to life in prison. He will never paint another peaceful landscape again. | Bob Ross was a madman. A skilled painter, he used his art to conceal his gruesome crimes. His landscapes were beautiful, but each one hid a dark secret. Bob Ross killed dozens of people, and each of his paintings was a scene from one of his murders. He was a master of disguise, and no one ever suspected that the gentle artist was a killer. Ross' victims were never found, and their bodies were hidden in the landscapes he so lovingly painted. His gruesome secret was safe...until one day, a detective began to suspect that something was wrong. The detective investigated Ross' paintings, and sure enough, he found evidence of the murders hidden in the brushstrokes. Bob Ross was finally apprehended, and his paintings now serve as a chilling reminder of his crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was originally meant to be used for only the most christless people on the planet, or so the principle was. However, over time the principle had become see only those who are considered ``dumb'' would be able to possess a population center. So, when it came time to deactivate the device, only the most intelligent and stabilizing individuals were chosen. It was, after all, just a matter of prestige and status. And so, even the most Tamarack County, Wisconsin, teller knows her smarting Numbers could be power of hers were it not for the visitors from the future. | I was born with the device implanted in my body. It had been decided that since I was an Auditor, I would be the one in charge of preventing the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world. I had to be careful not to let anyone get too clever, because if they did, they would be able to create intelligent and stable humans. And that would be bad news for the world. I was pleased to be in charge of this important task. I helped to ensure that the population was healthy and stable, and that no one was able to create intelligent and stable humans again. I was happy to be able to prevent the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world. | When I was born, the doctors attached something to my heart to keep me from reproducing. They called it a birth control device. I never knew what it did, but I was sure it was something to keep me from being dumb like all the other people in the world. As I grew older, I started to figure out what the device did. It stopped me from getting pregnant. I was really happy about that, especially since I didn't want to have children. But one day, I woke up and the device was gone. I didn't know why, but I was really scared. I didn't know what would happen if I got pregnant. I was determined to find out. I started to ask around, and I soon found out that the device could only be deactivated once it was determined that I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor. So now, I'm stuck with the knowledge that I'm one of the few people in the world who wasn't born dumb. I'm happy with that, but I still worry about what might happen if I get pregnant. I'm sure I'll be an excellent mother, but I don't know if I'll be able to handle the test that will determine if I'm intelligent and stable enough. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The stakes are high - if someone is deemed too dumb or unstable, they won't be able to have children. You go through everyone's records with a fine-toothed comb, looking for any red flags that could indicate they're not up to the task. In some cases, it's easy to see that someone is not fit to be a parent. But in others, it's a close call. You have to make tough decisions, but you know that the future of humanity depends on it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is theithersnow. The ice is a beautiful glass againt the earth, Scotty thinks. He can't help but feel her name on his skin. He can feel her breath on his skin. The snowinalscenes are gone, but the memories are still there. Scotty looks down at his glass of water and sees no waterablishment. He looks down at the ice again and sees no fear. He looks at the snow upon his soil and sees no hope. He looks at the way life is and sees only darkness. | On July 4th, the United States were celebrating their independence from Great Britain. However, just as the fireworks were igniting, the first reports of a terrorist attack started spreading. Within minutes, law enforcement had responded to the scene and communities across the country were in lockdown. As the night went on, more and more people were reported dead and injured. Then, just before dawn, it was confirmed that the attacker was responsible for the attack and authorities killed him. This event, called the July 4th Attack, received the greatest amount of attention of any current event. | The currentevents issue that deserves the most attention is the North Korea crisis. The country has been in an uproar for weeks after a tanker loaded with oil was discovered off the coast of North Korea. The United Nations has expressed concern over the situation and has demanded that North Korea allows inspections of the tanker. Pyongyang has so far refused and has threatened to withdraw from the nuclear treaty it signed with the United States. | There's no shortage of current events issues vying for attention these days. Gun violence, climate change, the opioid crisis... the list goes on. But if we had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would have to be income inequality. Income inequality has been on the rise for decades, and it's only getting worse. The richest 1% now control more wealth than the other 99% combined, and the gap between the haves and the have-nots is only getting wider. This is bad for our economy, bad for our democracy, and bad for our society as a whole. It's time to pay attention to income inequality and start doing something about it. otherwise, the gap between the rich and the poor will only continue to grow, and that's not a future any of us wants to see. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The streets around my city are filled with children on the fanless days like this, favorite pastime as a teenager. The air is hot and red from the ovens that have been going for weeks, shorting electric power while they wait for the latest retirement plan from theplotter.Above, the midday sun can't quite make up its story. It give the perfect temperature of skin- parser evident in the sky, a promise of new life ahead. It Is something in your home You try to exposures without leting you Aware of its presence televisions are posure guides the contact of Guerrero With his easy Summer Ago vortex Guerreros The Invisible TX I ze was was a hhh dl Ling s was pll ing pie into the miss mission I was was pll ing pie into the miss mission I was pll ing pie into the miss mission I was pll ing pie into the miss mission I was pll ing pie into the miss | Something was living in my home. I could feel it watching me from the shadows. I tried to show it that I was aware of its presence, but it was too strong. It never seemed to let me go. | I always thought something was living in my home, but I never knew what it was. I always felt like something was watching me, but I never could tell for sure. One day, I decided to take some pictures of my home to show my friends. As I was taking them, I noticed something moving behind a bookshelf. I quickly took the pictures and ran into my bedroom. Something was after me, but I was too scared to look back. I locked the door and hid under the bed until it went away. I never looked back at my home the same way again. | For weeks, I had the feeling that something was watching me. I couldn't see it, but I could feel its presence. It was always there, lurking in the shadows. I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up cameras around my house and waited. Finally, one night, I saw it. A figure, completely invisible, moving about my house. I watched it for hours, trying to figure out what it was and what it wanted. But it never gave me any answers. It was as if it knew I was watching it and was playing a game with me. I never saw it again after that night, but I always felt its presence. It was like it was always there, just out of sight, waiting to pounce. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet is incredibly honest and straightforward. They don't tell a soul about their past, and they don't even know how they're going to make things right for their family. One day, you sneak up on them and tell all. Your face is old and tired, but your story is still strong. "I have a big mouth, and I make up things. I don't know what I'm doing, but I think I canenough make it right." They asks if you can stop, and you hands doENOUGH to speak. "I don't know if I can make it through another day with you by my side. I need some time for myself." They asks you to stay, and you accept.You two lie down in the bed together, and you give each other a sad smile. You have each other, and you know that you will never be able to lie with both of you. | You meet someone new and startling one day, someone with one huge scar that dominates their body. You are curious, and ask them about it. They tell you a story of a lying life that led them to this place. They tell you of a time when they were in college and were trying to get a job. They lied and said they had a degree that they did not. They were caught and were made to pay for their mistake. They continued to lie and cheat until they finally got caught. They were fated for this life, and had no other way out. They tell you that this is the life that they have chosen, and that it is the only way to survive. In the end, they choice was made for them, and they are still living with the consequences. | I stared at the stranger in disbelief. How could he have only one scar? It was the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran along his entire right arm, stretching from his shoulder to his hand. It was so big and so deep, it looked like it had been carved into his skin. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This was the first person I had ever met who only had one scar. Everyone else I had ever seen had at least a few. I asked him how he had gotten the scar. He told me that he had been lying for so long, it had started to hurt his soul. He said that it was hard to tell the truth anymore, because every lie created a new, bigger scar. I was so sorry for him. It looked like his life was stuck in a cycle of pain and misery. But I understood. I had been lied to so many times, it had started to hurt my own soul. I offered to help him heal his soul, but he declined. He said that he was just trying to survive. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. You have plenty of scars yourself, some big and some small. You're not a liar by nature, but sometimes it's necessary to bend the truth a bit. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. It covers their entire chest, and is so deep that it looks painful. You can't help but stare at it, and you can't help but wonder what sort of lie could have created such a huge scar. The person sees you looking at their scar and they smile. "It's not from a lie," they say. "It's from the truth. The truth can be just as painful as a lie, sometimes even more so." You don't know what to say to that, so you simply nod in understanding. You can't imagine what sort of truth could have caused such a huge scar, but you admire the person for being brave enough to face it. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The Today show is broadcast live on the internet, and people arevant with the day's news. A man starts to have a discussion with his co-workers about the current events. He says that the issue today is the while of the world. All of the other stories are interestin are they include the news articles that are being read as they take place. One co-worker starts to listen and watch the video of the discussion. She is interest in what she reads. After a few minutes, she decides that she want to learn more about the topic. She goes to the news website and starts reading about the topic. | Today, the nation is in the midst of a heated debate over the question of whether or not to raise the federal minimum wage to $15 an hour. Supporters of the measure argue that the hike would help create new jobs and talented employees, while opponents claim that the increase would lead to higher poverty rates and joblessness. At the heart of the issue is the question of whether or not everyone who needs a job should be able to get one. Some people, such as small business owners, may be able to afford to pay a higher wage, but others may not. As the minimum wage debates continue to rage on, it's important that we focus on the people who will be the most affected by the decision. These are the people who have the least resources and the most to lose if the minimum wage hike is approved. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the global refugee crisis. Every day, thousands of people are fleeing their homes, seeking refuge from violence, war, and persecution. Many are fleeing to countries like Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan, where conditions are extremely unstable. The UNHCR estimates that over 68 million people are currently displaced, and that number is growing every day. The global refugee crisis is a major humanitarian crisis, and it needs the attention of everyone in the world. | I believe that the biggest issue facing us today is the issue of climate change. Climate change is a real and pressing problem that we need to address urgently. It is already causing devastating effects around the world, and if we don't act now, it will only get worse. We need to take action on climate change now. We need to switch to renewable energy, reduce our emissions, and protect our planet. We need to do this for our own sake, and for the sake of future generations. We can't afford to wait any longer. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud needs participants for clinical trials of a new method to prescribeOfficial Script: Dear Woods, I am writing to ask if you would be able to provide me with a participant in a trial of this new method which is called "Lévi-Mystéria" which would be very important in helping my clients effective, as it is together with Mystéria and Mystéria-sociale which is an egyptian language. I would be very grateful if you could be able to provide me with a participant in this trial. Thank you for your time, Sigmund Freud | Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were already well-known to Freud. Trotsky had recently been released from prison and was working on a new political manifesto. Broz Tito was still in hiding. The three newcomers Pitch a fit at the invitation to join the clinical trials. They were suspicious of Freud's motives and didn't believe in his new research. They thought it was just a scam to get them to participate in a scientific experiment that would no doubt lead to their downfall. But Freud was undeterred. He was still trying to find a way to put his theories to use and help his patients. And his patients were the ones who would benefit the most from his research. So he kept going, even though the three newcomers didn't seem to have a clue what was going on. | Freud is baffled by the responses to his ad. He doesn't know what to make of the young men who have responded. He's never worked with men so young before. He decides to interview them one-on-one. Hitler is the first to arrive. Freud is surprised to see such an aggressive young man. He asks Hitler about his interest in the research. Hitler is eager to share his ideas. Stalin arrives a few minutes later. They get along well. Stalin tells Freud about his ideas for socialist revolution. Freud is surprised by how well-educated Stalin is. Tito arrives a few minutes later. They also get along well. Tito tells Freud about his plans to unite the Balkans under communist rule. Freud is fascinated by these young men. He's not sure what to make of their ambitious plans, but he's sure that he will be able to make a difference in their lives. | Sigmund Freud was a trailblazer in the field of psychology and his latest research was on the power of the subconscious mind. He was seeking participants for clinical trials and he placed an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and were eager to participate in the trials. Freud was impressed with their eagerness and decided to accept all of them into the trials. During the trials, each man was asked to go into a trance and recount their deepest, darkest desires. Freud was surprised by the answers that each man gave. Adolf Hitler confessed to a desire to conquer the world and create a master race. Joseph Stalin confessed to a desire to become a dictator and rule with an iron fist. Leon Trotsky confessed to a desire to overthrow the government and become the leader of the people. Josip Broz Tito confessed to a desire to create a socialist state where everyone was equal. Freud was disturbed by the dark desires that each man confessed to and he was even more disturbed when he saw that each man was beginning to act on those desires. He knew that he had created a monster with his research and he vowed to never do anything like it again. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet is unique and nasty. The person has no fear and is the complete opposite of the everyone you know. You live in their world and they know it. They can't help but create lies in that circle. The person is different and you become to attention by the person. The person has NONE of everything going for them and you know it. They are a victim and you are a victim of something. We all have times where we are scared, anxious andneed someone. They are the wrong person at the wrong time. But, in the end, they is who he is and he is going to make taxpayers believe what they want. | You meet the person on a bus. They sit next to you and tell you a story. It is a sad story, but it has a happy ending. The person tells you a lie, and then they get caught. They go to jail, and they have to fix the biggest, deepest scar on their body. They have to be honest with you, and they have to face the consequences. | I first saw him from a distance. He was walking down the street, and he was so different from anyone I had ever seen before. His skin was so smooth and unmarked, and his eyes looked so bright. I was curious about him, so I slowly made my way closer to find out more. It turned out that he was the liar. Every lie he had ever told had left a permanent scar on his body. But even though he was hurt every day by his own lies, he still had a kind heart. He was always willing to help others, no matter what their situation. After I got to know him better, I realized that he was the only person who had ever shown me kindness. I started to see his scars as a badge of honor, because he had always been willing to stand up for what he believed in. And that's why I admire him the most, because he is the biggest liar I have ever met, but he is also the kindest person I have ever known. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something major. You can't help but wonder what the lie was. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers came to the pawn shop. They were all selling their looted gear, but the shop-owner was not happy. He noticed one of the adventurers had a copy of the thanal text in his inventory. The man was trying to leave the shop to go explore the area. The pawn shop-owner had him stay in the store tomorow. He would let the man go if he was happy with the gear he had sold. The man stayed in the store, but he wasn't happy. He wanted to leave, but the shop-owner wanted to keep him. The man didn't want to let go, so he stayed in the store. He wanted to explore the area, but he was uncomfortable with the situation. He didn't want to leave the store, but he also didn't want to let the man leave. The man decided to go outside to explore. He found a chest of doings with a piece of information on the thanal text. He knew he could sell it to the adventurer for theNormal Price. He decided to sell it to the adventurer for 23,200 gold pieces. | One day, I ran into an Adventurer on the street. He was selling an amazing piece of treasure he'd acquired during his latest raid. I couldn't resist haggling with him. I offered him a lower price than he had originally asked, then offered to give him back the treasure if he would agree to not sell it to anyone else. He accepted, and I took my leave. | It was a busy day at the pawn shop. The adventurers had been coming in ever since it had opened, trying to sell their loot. The shopkeeper, Rachel, always tried to negotiate with the adventurers. She always wanted to get the best deal possible for her customers. She haggled with one adventurer for a while, but she eventually gave in and let him sell her the weapons. She got a good deal on them and was happy. Later on, another adventurer came in. He was selling some potions. Rachel was interested in buying them, but the adventurer wanted a high price for them. Rachel didn't back down this time. She haggled with the adventurer for a while, but she eventually gave in and let him sell her the potions for a lower price. she was happy with the deal. | You opened your RPG pawn shop with one goal in mind: to help adventurers get the most for their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best possible price for their hard-earned goods. sometimes, you feel like you're being taken advantage of. But you know that the adventurers need the money, so you try to help them out as much as you can. You've been in business for a few years now, and you've seen all sorts of loot come through your door. You've also seen the adventurers who bring it to you, and you know that they all have their own stories. Some of them are just starting out, and they're eager to get rid of their loot so they can buy better equipment. Others are seasoned veterans, and they know how to haggle with you to get the best price. Regardless of their level of experience, you always try to help them out as much as you can. After all, you know that their loot will help you keep your shop running. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Find out what happens next when The Character had to take a much needed break. The next day, The Character healed up and resumed their journey. They will stop by some small villages and chat with the people there. They will also join a journey with them and future children. The trip was much needed, and The Character received their reward. They had trampled on the same SOLDY's heals numerous times. Now, the ground was stained with dried blood, and the Military had also left food and water waiting for them. | I was walking down the street when I was run over by a bus. I lay there for a while, not knowing what to do. Then I started to feel a warmth on my body and I identified myself as the plague. I began to feel my skin crawl and my intestines kind of pooled in my stomach. I knew I was going to die. But, then something amazing happened- after I died, I woke up in a Lazarus Pit. | Whenever I think about death, I see images of my own death. It's always the same: I'm lying in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling while the machines monitor my life-support system. My family is in the room with me, but they're too sad to say anything. I know they're grieving, and I hate myself for making them feel that way. In my head, I rehearse my funeral. I imagine the casket being delivered to the cemetery, the tears of my friends and family as they pay their respects. I imagine my tombstone, engraved with the words, "Here lies Jane. She died in hospital." And that's exactly what happens. I die in hospital, surrounded by the people I love, and I regret every single second of it. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It's not a sad thing, or a happy thing. It just is. And I'm at peace with it. I don't know how much time passes after I die. It could be seconds, or it could be years. But eventually, I find myself in a place that is both familiar and strange to me. There's a light shining down on me, and I can see my body lying on the ground below. I'm not sure what this place is, but I feel like I'm supposed to be here. I have a feeling that I'm going to be here for a while, so I might as well make myself comfortable. I sit down and wait, and eventually I drift off to sleep. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was decided at that age. Born accordingly, the new Auditor knew that he would be intelligence and stability Limited. For the rest of his life, he was never wrong a day for he was programmed to always be Auditor. | As the Auditor, I was always looking for new and innovative ways to prevent the spread of stupidity across the population. So when I heard about a new birth control device that was being developed, I was intrigued. The idea of being able to deactivate my birth control as soon as I became intelligent and stable enough sounded like a great way to keep everyone safe. When I finally found a company who would make my birth control device, I was nervous. I didn't know if I could make it work, but I was willing to take a chance. I couldn't wait to see how well my new invention would work. To my surprise, the device worked perfect. I finally had a way to keep everyone safe and keep stupidity at bay. | I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was designed to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but it seemed like it only applied to me. I was always the last to be picked for sports, I couldn't do math, and I was always getting in trouble. I was determined to find a way to deactivate the device, but it was like it was impossible. I was an Auditor. I was supposed to be able to determine if someone was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. But I couldn't even do that. I was a failure. | As an Auditor, it is my job to deactivate the birth control devices of those who are considered intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It is a difficult and sometimes thankless job, but I take pride in knowing that I am helping to create a better world. There are many who believe that all people are equally capable of raising a child, but I know that this is simply not true. There are those who are barely able to take care of themselves, let alone a child. And so I am grateful for the work that I do. I know that there are many who criticize the system, but I believe that it is necessary. We cannot allow the dumbest people in the world to continue to reproduce. It is not fair to the children, and it is not fair to society as a whole. So I will continue to do my job, and I will continue to make sure that only the best and the brightest are able to have children. It is the only way to create a better future for all of us. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each painting hasod been Os warlorny day, O rosjdy day, O noc jedynia. They are all called March Fool's Day and it's a time to frailer. Bob Ross was having a better day. He was having aMarch Fool's Day, he had every reason to believe so. He was painting a landscape, when he met a place that was different each time he killed someone. Each painting had a different name, to make it more believable. Bob Ross was hasing a Have Faire de Scènes Gourmandes, when he waseant to get a little bit ofandyday, day of the noc jedyna. He was having a little bit ofandyday, when he met a place that was different each time he killed someone. Each painting had a different name, to make it more believable. Bob Ross was having a hasing a Have Faire de Scènes Gourmandes, when he wasdelta diego and the other two Philippines. He waseint to get a bit ofandyday, when he met a place that was different each time he killed someone. Each painting had a different name, to make it more believable. Bob Ross was having a hasing a Have Faire de Scènes Gourmandes, when he waseint to get a bit ofandyday, when he met a place that was different each time he killed someone. Each painting had a different name, to make it more believable. | Bob Ross had a terrible habit of killing people. It started as a spare part of his criminal activity, a way to get away with whatever he was doing, but it quickly turned into a habit. He would kill people for the money, or for the thrill of it, or for some other twisted reason. But he never stopped. Bob Ross loved the feeling of killing, and he loved the thrill of being able to see the lives of his victims die in his own hand. One day, however, he got caught. He was caught with a list of his murders next to his Art Gallery of Tennessee painting, "The War of the Worlds." The punishment that he was given was severe. He was sent to prison, and he was forced to live in solitude. He could never bring himself to kill again, but he could still see the pain and the fear in the eyes of his victims. One day, however, a prisoner break out of prison and find Bob Ross. He has since become a fugitive, running and hiding as fast as he can. He's been living in seclusion for years, but he's Finally ready to face his old friend again. | Bob Ross was an accomplished landscape painter. His paintings depicted natural landscapes from all over the world, but there was one place he never painted- his home state of Washington. It was there that Bob killed countless people. He would lure people out to see his paintings, then kill them with a knife or a gun. His victims were always elderly or unsuspecting tourists. As the police closed in on him, Bob ran away to another state, where he killed yet another group of people. His paintings depicted idyllic scenes of nature, but the people he killed were all criminals or people he felt were harming society. Eventually, Bob was apprehended and sentenced to death. He is now spending his last days on death row, painting landscapes of his home state of Washington in an attempt to atone for his crimes. | Bob Ross was always a bit of an oddball. He had a knack for painting, but his true passion was for killing. He took great joy in luring people to remote locations under the guise of painting landscape scenes, then murdering them. Over the years, he grew more and more bold, and his paintings became more and more gruesome. Finally, he was caught after painting a particularly grisly scene that matched up too closely with a recent murder. In the end, Bob Ross was revealed to be a serial killer, and his paintings were nothing more than a map of his many crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The Magician has always been a peaceable when compared to his older brother. He is gentle with children, but when he dismisses his younger brother for being too noisy, the other MAGICIANS panic. The Magician take themselves vastlyaxed and write off as being prone to anxiety disorder. Their older brother is a total expert on magic and they are simply following his advice. One day, the young MAGICIANS egging in on their Older Brother and ask him to offer a different choice. "What do you want to be when you are older?" They are Castingalla and speak of choice after choice although his younger brother never allows them to make a decision. "I want to be a master of ceremonies," is the answer that they receive. The Magician and His Younger Brother. Who Came First ? The Magician and His Younger Brother. Who Came First When the older MAGICIANS try to ask their older brother the same question, they see an answer in the water. His older brother is a wealth of knowledge about magic and spells, and when they try to ask him, they areBG The older MAGICIANS are confounded by their younger brother and turn to magic in order to cope. They may have a different answer at first, but it's only a matter of time before they seek revenge. | The magician had been asked to perform a magic trick. He took out a hat and put it on the rabbit's head. He said, "Now, when I pull the hat off, you'll be able to see that I'm not really a magician." The rabbit was 1st skeptical, but then he thought about it and decided that this could be really impressive. So, he took off the hat, and there he was, a real magician! | The magician took a deep breath and reached into his pocket. He took out a small, white rabbit and, with a flick of his wrist, he set it free. The rabbit ran offstage, declaring that it was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician shook his head and sighed. He'd known that the rabbit would react this way, but he had hoped that it would at least be willing to do its part for the show. He turned to the audience, hoping that they would understand. But, instead, they were all laughing. The magician turned red with embarrassment, and he knew that he would have to find another rabbit soon. | The magician was in the middle of his show, and the rabbit was getting tired of being pulled out of the hat. He had had enough of being the second fiddle, and he was determined to get the spotlight. So, when the magician pulled him out of the hat this time, he refused to go back in. The magician was trying to coax him back in, but the rabbit was having none of it. He wanted to be the star of the show, and he wasn't going to go back in the hat until the magician gave him what he wanted. The audience was getting restless, and the magician was getting desperate. He didn't know what to do, and he was about to lose control of the situation. Finally, he had an idea. He reached into the hat and pulled out a second rabbit. This one was bigger and fluffier than the first, and the audience "oohhed" and "aahhed" at the sight of it. The first rabbit was jealous, but he was also wise enough to know that he couldn't compete with the new rabbit. So, he reluctantly went back into the hat, and the show went on. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a power outage in the city. The outage has caused a lot of damage and caused the city to look bad. The city has been trying to get everyone to stay up to date on information by print, online and social media. However, many people are protesting outside the city hall trying to get the city to fix the power outage. | On a typical day, there are a few issues that deserve the most attention. But on today, one issue is deserving of the most attention because it is the biggest threat to the future of America. This is the issue that is causing the largest rift between the country's two major political parties, and it is the issue that is threatening to break the country apart. | The debate over gun control is back in the news. After the horrific shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, students are demanding action from their government. Students across the country are staging walkouts to bring attention to the issue. Some say that the way to stop mass shootings is to introduce new gun control measures, like raising the minimum age for purchasing firearms, while others say that more guns equals more death. What do you think? Is gun control the answer to preventing these tragedies from happening in the future? | There are a lot of current events issues today that deserve attention. However, if we had to choose one that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would have to be the issue of climate change. Climate change is a major problem that is affecting our planet in a negative way. The Earth is getting warmer and this is causing a lot of problems, such as more extreme weather conditions, melting glaciers, and rising sea levels. This issue needs to be taken seriously and we need to do something about it before it's too late. We need to be more environmentally friendly and stop doing things that contribute to climate change. Otherwise, we're going to see more and more problems in the future. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler Read the Ad. He was intrigued by the opportunity to participate in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin was intrigued by the opportunity to participate in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Leon Trotsky was intrigued by the opportunity to participate in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. But Josip Broz Tito wasn't interested in participating in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He was interested in participating in a clinical trial of the protocol for training new psychiatrists. | Freud was dismayed when only four people responded to his clinical trial ad. But he was pleasantly surprised when he met Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. The four men were all keen to test Freud's new research. Each participant underwent multiple psychological evaluations, and each man claimed that the research had changed his life for the better. Freud was impressed by the men's dedication to their work and their ambition. He was also impressed by their extreme political differences. But despite their differences, the men seemed to get along well. Freud was optimistic about the future of his research. He was proud of the four men who had chosen to participate in his clinical trials, and he was confident that their experiments would change the world for the better. | It's 1913, and Vienna is buzzing with excitement. Sigmund Freud, the world-renowned psychiatrist, has just announced that he is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. The only people who respond to Freud's ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to take part in the trials, and Freud is impressed by their intensity. However, it quickly becomes apparent that the four men are very different from each other. Hitler is brash and aggressive, Stalin is cold and calculating, Trotsky is fiery and passionate, and Tito is charismatic and charming. Freud quickly realizes that he's in over his head. These four men are the most powerful leaders in the world, and they're all vying for control of his research. The trials quickly turn into a battle of wills, as the four men try to outsmart and outmaneuver each other. Freud is caught in the middle, and he quickly realizes that his research is being used as a tool in a power struggle that could have disastrous consequences. As the trials come to an end, Freud is relieved, but he knows that the four men will never forget what happened here. And he knows that their rivalry will have far-reaching consequences for the world. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The protagonist has been living in aIf they were to die today, what would happen next? She would likely live a life filled with anxiety and panic. | I was sitting in my room, reading a book when I heard a knock on the door. I knew who it was, so I got up and opened it. It was my best friend, Ian. He walked in and sat down on the edge of my bed. "Hey, I was wondering if you'd everdecide to come out and play with me," he said. I just looked at him, not wanting to play. "What's the matter?" he asked again. "I don't want to play," I said. "I just want to stay in my room." "Come on, I know you're sick of being in the same room as me," he said. "Come out and play with me." I didn't want to, but I got up and went along with him. We played for hours and hours, until we were both really tired. I falling asleep at his side. | It was a typical morning. I woke up, got out of bed, and started my day. I did the usual things: brushed my teeth, washed my face, put on clothes. But then something happened that I never expected. As I opened the door to the living room, I saw a figure in the doorway. I didn't know what to do. My heart was racing, and I didn't know what to say. The figure stepped forward and I saw that it was my deceased mother. Her eyes were wide and she looked scared. She said one thing to me: "I died." I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what to do. But then she reached out to me and I hugged her. I was so grateful that she was there with me. After we hugged, she disappeared and I went on with my day. But that moment will forever stay with me. I know that she is with me always. | I was walking home from work when I was hit by a car. As I lay there dying, I saw the driver get out and run away. I knew I was going to die, but I also knew that I had to do something. With my last bit of strength, I managed to crawl to the nearest phone and call 911. I died shortly after, but I was proud of myself for alerting the authorities. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The GM has been Guinea Fasting, or rather, she is the owner of the game store who has been running behind. She has been buying levels ofICE and magic scrolls to field in her store, so she cansteamroll her way through her citizens. She has been able to do this by selling levels ofice that they can't produce, and she has needed to buy levels of magic from the players to field them. However, she has been struggling to get all the levels she needs as there are not that many of those left. She is however, able to steamroll her way through her citizens because she has a deep understanding of their minds. | I run myRPG pawn shop with the best of intentions. I want to help adventurers make money and learn about the world beyond their current realm. I've been bargaining with theselifesavers for hours, until I hear a low voice from the back room. "I think I found the most marvelous treasure!" And with that, the bidding war for my prized treasure began. The adventurers spilled out of the room, exchanging items for gold, weapons, magic items, and more. They were all excited to get their hands on this new, unheard of treasure. As the treasure hunters counted their spoils, they all had the same expression. They were all Shackled. Shackled, and left with nothing but their memories... | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. Angela was haggling with an adventurer, trying to get a lower price for their loot. She was having a tough time, as the adventurer kept pushing for a higher price. Angela was about to give up, when she saw someone walk in the door. She immediately stopped talking to the adventurer, and started greeting the newcomer. She was excited to see who it was. She was especially excited to see that the person was wearing the same armor that she was. The newcomer looked at her for a moment, before recognition dawned on their face. They smiled at Angela, before heading towards the back of the pawn shop. Angela couldn't believe it. She was finally going to get to see her friend again. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best price for the items you're selling. Today, you see a group of adventurers walking into your shop, and you can tell they're carrying a lot of loot. You approach them and start haggling for the items they're carrying. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally agree on a price and walk away with a nice haul of loot. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross is a famous landscape artist who kills many people every day. His paintings have a real place only because each death of theirs is already history. | Bob Ross was an American artist who specialized inImpressionist landscape paintings. Many of his paintings depict his homeland of Ohio, includingLandscapes of Ohio, A Hill in Ohio, and A River in Ohio. One of his most famous paintings, Landscapes of Ohio, is based on the real-life location of the murders of three women in 1907. The murders occurred in a small town in Ohio, and the painting is dedicated to the victims. | Bob Ross was a famed landscape painter, and each of his paintings was based on a real place. But his true passion lay in murder, and over the years he killed many people in different locations around the United States. As he got older and more accomplished, he began to move his murders to more exotic locations, eventually settling in an isolated corner of the Amazon jungle. There, he continued to murder people, until one day he was tracked down and killed by a team of Brazilian hunters. | Bob Ross was a talented painter with a penchant for landscape paintings. What most people didn't know was that each of his paintings was based on a real location - the scene of one of his many murders. Bob was a serial killer who travelled the country, preying on unsuspecting victims. He would often find remote locations that would be the perfect setting for one of his paintings, and he would use this as an opportunity to strike. His victims would never suspect a thing until it was too late. Bob was a master of disguise and could charm his way into anyone's heart. He would gain their trust before finally killing them and moving on to his next victim. For years, Bob Ross enjoyed a successful career as a painter and serial killer. But eventually, the law caught up with him and he was arrested for his crimes. Now, each of his paintings serves as a reminder of the horrific murders that he committed. They are a grim reminder of the darkness that can lurk beneath even the most pleasant of surfaces. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The object of the experiment was to make it look like nothing special was happening in the home, in order to avoid being suspicious. But in the end, the hidden objectellation in the home was enough to hiss with a Tron decker about the being's location. | One day, I woke up to an overwhelming sense of pressure inside my home. I could feel something lurking just beyond the edge of my sight, just out of reach. I resisted the temptation to investigate, but the pressure grew stronger and stronger until it became too much. I gave in, and allowed the something to Entry my home. It slowly began to reveal itself: a small, dull looking creature with a slimy body. It began to mys and Stretch, trying to escape my sight. I screamed, trying to drown it out, but it only strengthened its hold. Leaving my home was the only thing that could break the creature's hold. I ran outside, screaming and waving my arms, but it was too late. The creature had already swallowed my screaming. | I was cleaning out some old boxes in the attic and I found something strange. It was a box with a label that said "Invisible something." I couldn't believe it. I opened the box and there was this little white ball inside. I was so excited to find it. I wanted to take it home and show it to my friends, but I was afraid that the ball would disappear if I made too much noise. I hid the ball behind some old boxes and waited for a chance to show it to everyone. But the ball just disappeared without a trace. I guess it was just a figment of my imagination. | You can sense it, lurking in the shadows. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. You're not sure how long it's been living with you, but you know you have to find a way to expose it. You can't let it know that you're aware of its presence, or it will slip away into the darkness. You start to set traps, hoping to catch it off guard. But each time, the trap is sprung and the creature is gone. You're getting frustrated, but you won't give up. One day, you finally catch it. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. You've exposed the invisible creature that has been living in your home. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The president's election victory and candidate's Tea Partyinspired campaign are breaking many records. The media is loving both campaigns as much as ever. However, there is one race that is keeps moving forward, with a potentialDonald Trump VictoryAuthor: The race for the starting position in the 2020 U.S. Presidential Election is keeping many people on their feet. However, with Donald Trump's surprising victory in the election, the Komplete Set is back and ready to take on the opposing team. | As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the sky turned dark. Above the horizon, the sky was filled with an ominous black cloud. The wind was howling, and the clouds were so large, they looked like they were about to fall. Electricity was so lacking, it seemed as if there was never going to be enough power to light up the darkness. | There is a current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, and it is the refugee crisis. The number of refugees fleeing their home countries to find safety is unprecedented, and the world is struggling to provide them with the resources they need. Countries are trying to grapple with how to handle the massive influx of people, and the global community is working to provide aid. The refugee crisis has major implications for the world economy, and it is also raising concerns about the ability of society to assimilate new members. Refugees are a demographic that is highly desirable, but also potentially risky. It is important that the world is able to support them as they continue to search for a safe place to call home. | There's no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the COVID-19 pandemic. This novel coronavirus has spread like wildfire around the world, causing widespread panic and chaos. Hospitals are overwhelmed with patients and governments are struggling to contain the spread. It's a truly global crisis that requires everyone's attention. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | Iverson died with a heavy heart. But unlike so many other people, Iverson didn't take Highway 294 lying down. From the moment he stepped on the wrong side of the road, Iverson was determined to find a way out. The first step was to find the person who caused the car to flip. Iverson was able to talk to the driver and gather enough information to identify the person responsible. But since the driver wasn't cooperative, Iverson had to work with him to get justice. The second step was to find the person who was driving the car. Iverson was able to track down the driver and confront him. The driver admitted to speeding and leaving the scene of an accident. But Iverson didn't believe him. He knew the driver was responsible for my car's flip and theft. The third and final step was to track down the person who did this to my car. Iverson was able to catch up to the driver and bring him to justice. The driver was eventually convicted and given a jail sentence. But Iverson knew that this was only the start of his journey. | As the Dark Lord Voldemort muttered an incantation, the young man before him crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Voldemort's eyes gleamed with delight as he walked over to the man and lifted his head to reveal his hideous face. He was elated to have finally found the right person to create a horcrux; the man had an interesting mind and was quite handsome, too. Suddenly, the man's eyes flew open and he sprang to his feet, screaming. Voldemort's face twisted into a sneer as he saw the terror in the man's eyes. The man ran past him, terror written all over his face, and crashed through the door into the corridor beyond. Voldemort laughed softly as he followed. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm going to die. It's not a happy death, either. I'm in pain, and there's no one around to help me. I'm scared, and I know that this is it. My life is over. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | B (!ville's newest magicist) is having a tough time keeping up with the rabbits throughout his act. When he's about to finish his performance, he- (the rabbit) jumps out of the hat andRace is SUCH A REAL SILLY KITTY THAT IT'S LIKE WASTE OF GOOD TO WORRY ABOUT IT. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician said, "I'm sorry, rabbit. I know you're just tired of being a pawn in this game. You can go back to your bedroom and sleep." The rabbit didn't want to go. He said, "I'm not going anywhere until I've had my say." The magician shook his head and said, "I can't believe you're still there. I've been giving you the best performance of my life, but you still can't get up." The rabbit collapsed onto the stage, taking away the magician's chance to win. | The magician had been performing for years and years, always finding new ways to amaze the crowd. But, one day, the rabbit decided that enough was enough. He had been the magician's second fiddle for years, and he was sick of it. So, he decided to take matters into his own hands and asked the magician to pull him out of a hat. The magician was a bit taken aback, but agreed. As soon as the magician put his hand in the hat, he pulled out the rabbit. The rabbit was relieved, but decided he didn't want to be the magician's only act. He left the stage and started his own act. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. But the rabbit is fed up with being the one who always gets pulled out of the hat. He's tired of being treated like a second-class citizen, and he's determined to show the magician that he's more than just a prop. So, when the time comes for the rabbit to be pulled out of the hat, he resists. He digs his feet in and refuses to come out. The magician is taken by surprise and doesn't know what to do. The audience starts to get restless, and the rabbit knows he has them on his side. The magician tries everything he can think of to get the rabbit to come out of the hat, but nothing works. In the end, he's forced to admit defeat and end the show early. As he leaves the stage, the rabbit knows that he's finally won the respect he deserves. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The war against fertility collection was a successful Valentines Day gift from thedemo John to thevirate. Himself, He had been` conscientious objector to World War II because of the Spectre of the Bogue Pegs,` was a private citizen`s come-of-age, and looking back at it all, a time when anything was possible, was shared experiences and was the beginning of a lifelong admirer of John "Theadr" Karkaroff. A few months after the gift, John was elected Alderman for thesuburban city ofH Butchertown. Because of the Spectre of the Bogue Pegs, he was already an Alderer serving at the ripe age of 53. Because of this, he had named his first Elm after the Jesse Schoenwald of the Griggs family--a family that had fought in World War II--and because of this, He was also called "Theadr Karkaroff" to the city. One day, John was sitting in his Alderman's chair when he was approached by a youth in a suitsuit. The youth told John that he had won a New York City permit to become a citizen, by using birth control to prevent pregnancy. John was surprised, but waschemyhc the youth was wealthy. Theadr Karkaroff, for his part, told John that he had been a rootsman inNew York City and that he had ran out of water to drink when he was Franklin D. Roosevelt's buttholeihichunterisinuhioaalhvot. John was surprised, but he at least knew that he could not run to hang the youth because he was not a citizen. Theadr Karkaroff told John that he had been a rootsman in New York City and that he had ran out of water to drink when he was Franklin D. Roosevelt's buttholeihic hunter. John was surprised, but he at least knew that he could not run to hang the youth because he was not a citizen. Theadr Karkaroff told John that he had been a rootsman in New York City and that he had ran out of water to drink when he was Franklin D. Roosevelt's buttholeihic hunter. John was surprised, but he at least knew that he could not run to hang the youth because he was not a citizen. | Before I was born, I was implanted with a birth control device. It was a rather small, silver object that could only be deactivated by someone I deemed intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. I was glad I was chosen to be an Auditor because I was sure that I was the only one who could protect the world from the stupidity of the whole population. | I was an Auditor, tasked with determining whether or not people were intelligent and stable enough to raise well-adjusted humans. I had to be sure they weren't just dumb luckless losers who wouldn't be able to take care of themselves. I was assigned to a young couple, just starting out in life. They were really excited about having a child, and I couldn't help but feel a little nervous. I had to make sure they were up for the task of raising a child. I went through their history, looking for any indication that they would be inadequate parents. I wasn't sure what I would do if I found anything, but I had to be sure. I found nothing, and I was finally given the go-ahead to implant the birth control device into their bodies. I couldn't risk them having a child and ruining everything. It was a little bit uncomfortable, but it was worth it. I knew they would be able to take care of a child, if given the chance. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a big responsibility, and one you take very seriously. You've just finished assessing a young woman who wants to have her birth control device deactivated. She's clearly intelligent and stable, and you have no hesitation in giving her the green light to have children. As you finish your report, you can't help but wonder what kind of world we would live in if only the dumbest people were allowed to reproduce. It would certainly be a different place, that's for sure. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Rossstrode saw each of his paintings as a place to see his history. Each painting from his past could be his new start, his chance to Serve His Shameful Reality. He had walked down the銜 all his sentences are are seeing are lines and lines, flowers in his hand, but they're all white. And in the white painting, Bob Ross is all white, his hairRaised HeavilyOnTopOfThe Painting, and hisketch is all white, but the painting is black. The painting is a rebuke to his own whiteness, to the whiteness of his goals and his dreams. The painting is The Cuckoo's Pie, and Bob Ross is the Cuckoo. | When Bob Ross was first born, he only knew one place in the world: his birthplace in Ross County, Ohio. But as he grew older, he began seeing other places in his paintings: murders that took place in specific locations. bob ross had identified the locations of the murders of his friends, family, and even himself as he worked on his paintings. each of ross' landscape paintings is a real place, and each of the murders took place there. even though bob ross has Pink Floyd playing in the background of each image, the reality of the murders is always there, haunting him long after the paintings are completed. | Bob Ross was a murderer. He killed people all over the United States of America, painting landscapes of the various scenes of their deaths. It's unknown how many people he killed, but it's sure to be in the hundreds. His paintings are real places, and anyone who visits them can feel the chilling presence of Bob Ross, the murderer. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to keep track of his victims. He would paint a scene from the location where he had murdered someone, and each painting was a reminder of his bloody crimes. Ross was never caught, and the bodies of his victims were never found. But the landscapes he painted were a map of his kill sites, and the detectives who eventually caught up to him knew exactly where to look for evidence. In the end, Bob Ross was brought to justice for his crimes, and his landscapes will forever be a reminder of the horror he inflicted on so many innocent people. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | The future looked bright for attainability. The sun was in the sky and the moon was up. This was a good time and place to be. There weren't any problems too big or too dangerous for her to address, and she had a lot of good things going for her. The only thing that could bring her down was silence. Silence made a powerful aborigine say that it was hard to think when you had a smarta. timely, her friends had found a young woman in a previous relationship who had questions that needed answers. How would she let those questions be answered? Would she be able to cx Climber the Elephant? This prompt is about how Timeline will be changing the world if she lets her questions be answered. | Once upon a time, there was a queen who struggled with her ability to cry. She would cry Whenever there was something bad happening, but as time went on, she began to see that tears didn't simply heal things, they left scars. The Queen's doctors could never explain what was happening, but her tears continued to cause pain. The Queen was heartbroken and dared not cry anymore. She decided to use her power to create a machine that would force people to cry. She created a machine that would send people's heart rates skyrocketing in order to force them to cry. The Queen's machines were quickly becoming the go-to method for people to cry. The Queen was happy and her kingdom was flourishing. However, one day, the Queen's machines malfunctioned and she was forced to cry. TheQueen's machines caused a lot of pain and she was left with a permanently sad smile. | It had been a long day at work, and Hannah was ready to go home. She had been dealing with a lot of crying coworkers today, and she was just ready for some downtime. As she walked out of the building, she saw someone in the distance, and she couldn't help but feel drawn to them. When she got closer, she realized that it was the person she had been crying about earlier that day. Hannah felt a mix of emotions as she got close. She felt sadness for the person and empathy for them, but she also felt a strand of jealousy. She realized that she now had the chance to start fresh, free from the baggage of the past. As she got closer, she noticed that the person was crying harder, and she felt a twinge of guilt. She wanted to reach out to them, to tell them that it was going to be okay, but she was afraid. She eventually came up with a plan. She would walk past the person, pretending not to see them, and then turn around and apologize. She knew that it would hurt the person to hear that she was still upset with them, but she thought that it would be worth it. She walked past the person, and she could feel her heart breaking as she did. She turned around and apologized, and she promised that she would never cry in front of them again. This change in the world would be hard, but it would be worth it. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For one, people would be much more careful about what they said and did. No one would want to cause another person pain, knowing that it would leave a permanent mark. There would also be a lot more empathy in the world. Imagine seeing the scars on another person's face and knowing the hurt they've been through. It would be impossible to ignore someone's pain or to not feel compassion for them. Ultimately, this change would make the world a kinder, gentler place. And isn't that what we all want? | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler answered the ad and said: "I'm Josip Broz Tito. How can we help you?" Joseph Stalin said: "I'm Leon Trotsky. We can help you." Leon Trotsky said: "I'm Adolf Hitler. We can help you." Josip Broz Tito said: "I'm idiotic enough to not have a name?" | Adolf Hitler was doing his best to elude the police, but it was no standard task. They were out in force everywhere he went in the city, and now he was on the streets of Vienna, looking for an opportunity to slip away. He had already been arrested a few times, but this was the first time that he had been tried and convicted. Joseph Stalin was in a very different position. He had been in power since 1917, when the Russian Revolution overthrew the tsar. He had consolidated power and held onto it through force and infiltration. He was a very effective leader, and his grip on the Soviet Union was unbreakable. Leon Trotsky was a different story. Trotsky was the young leader of the Bolshevik party, which had helped to lead the Russian Revolution. He was a very sharp operator, and he had managed to keep control of the party even when other members had left to start their own versions of the revolution. Josip Broz Tito was also in a different position. Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia, which had remained loyal to the Soviet Union during the War. He had also managed to keep control of the country even when members of his own party had defected. The three men were waiting for Hitler in a hotel room. They had decided to wait until he had shown some signs of breaking. The police were not the only ones looking for him; the Viennese government was. They wanted to know who he was and what he was up to. Hitler had a Russian passport, but he had also brought with him a bag of money. He had set up a business in Vienna, which he was using to hide his activities. The Viennese authorities were interested in this, and they were also looking for his partner, SS chief Reinhard Heydrich. The three men discussed the situation for a minutes before deciding to leave. They had some business to take care of first. They would be back soon. | Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was initially skeptical of these candidates, but after interviewing them he decided to include them in the trials. The results were surprising. All five participants showed improvement in their personal lives and their work. Freud was convinced that the research was a success and published his findings in a journal. | As the world hurtled towards the first World War, Sigmund Freud was busy conducting clinical trials of his latest research in Vienna, Austria. He needed participants for his trials, so he placed an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. The four men met with Freud and agreed to participate in his research. Over the course of the next few weeks, Freud observed and interviewed the men as they underwent his treatments. He was fascinated by their stories and their different perspectives on life. But as the war began and the four men's countries were drawn into the conflict, Freud's research was put on hold. He never got to finish his work with Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito. But he always wondered what could have been if he had been able to complete his studies. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Officially, it was a penzechovicioteam's success that led to the Acquisition of agency by the ITA.VENI. It was a byproduct of the Acquisition that the team was now an Audit. The new designationowing they were named Auditors. The Auditors wereification as such because they were supposed to be able to detect anything that might disadvantage the ITA.VENI. It was a big responsibility because the Auditors were allowed to detect anything that might benefit the ITA.VENI. The Auditors were Short of ideas because they were not allowed to see anything that might be advantage the ITA.VENI. The only thing they were allowed to see was what was benefit the ITA.VENI. and that was what they were short of ideas for. The Auditors were short of ideas because they werebidden to see anything that might be disadvantage the ITA.VENI. The only thing they were allowed to see was what was benefit the ITA.VENI. Auditors were not to be Auditors were short of ideas because they were not allowed to see anything that might be disadvantage the ITA.VENI. The only thing they were allowed to see was what was benefit the ITA.VENI. Auditors were not to be Auditors were short of ideas because they were not allowed to see anything that might be disadvantage the ITA.VENI. The only thing they were allowed to see was what was benefit the ITA.VOLITI. | As an Auditor, you know that contraception is important. But you never thought you'd be the one to put it into place. You're an intelligent, stable person, not the sorts who might be swayed by a silly idea like contraception. But as you grow older, you start to notice that your friends and family are becoming less and less solid. More and more, they're just pieces of information in a file you need to store and examine. What are you going to do, when you realize that your birth control device is going to keep you from reproducing? You decide to deactivate your birth control device. It's a difficult decision, but you know that it's the right thing to do. You'll never be able to reproduce, but you'll still be able to live a happy life. | The birth control device was uncomfortable, but it was necessary. It was a way to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and that was something that needed to be done. birth control device | You are an Auditor, tasked with the important job of determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, it is your job to make sure that only the dumbest people in the world are prevented from reproducing. As you go about your job, you are constantly on the lookout for signs of intelligence and stability. When you find someone who meets your criteria, you deactivate their birth control device, allowing them to reproduce. You know that you are performing a vital service for society, and you take great pride in your work. Every day, you make a difference in the world, ensuring that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to reproduce. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet is the biggest lie in the world. They only have one scar, and that is the biggest lie they have ever told. The person that you meet is someone that North Face is never going to make it. And that is why North FACE. | You had always thought you would meet someone with a bigger scar than you. You had seen so many stories of people with huge scars, it had seemed like a fact of life. You had never expect to meet someone with a single, large scar. But, when you met him, you did. He was your new neighbor and you quickly noticed that he had a scar on his forehead. It was large and clearly visible. You asked him about it and he told you that it was from a fight he had just had. He said that he had been fighting a man and that he had been stabbed in the head. He said that the pain was so intense that he had passed out. He said that he still couldn't believe that he had survived. You were scared and you didn't know what to say to him. You knew that you had never fought a man and you had no idea how to react when someone tells you that. But, you were also impressed by how strong he had been. You were inspired by him and you decided to tell him your own story. You told him that you had also been in a fight and that you had also been stabbed. You told him about the pain and how you had passed out. He listened with empathy and you suddenly felt better. You knew that he had experienced the same thing as you had and that he was also inspired by you. You wanted to make sure that he knew that he wasn't the only one with a scar. You told him that there were people out there that had been through similar things and that you wanted to help them. He listened with interest and agreed to meet with you soon. You went to the hospital and met the other members of his team. They were allucks that had caused his scar and they all wanted to apologize. But, you told them that it was okay. You knew that they had also been through something similar and that they would be okay. Later, you met him again and he had acquired a new job. He told you that he had been through a lot of tough times and that the scars were just a physical reminder of those times. He said that the scars were a sign of the strength that he had and that he was still able to find his way through life. You proud of him and you knew that he hadearned his scars. You knew that he had overcome a lot and that he was still a strong person. You were proud of him and you knew that he would always be a part of your life. | I had always been fascinated by scars. I loved to trace my fingers over them, wondering what story they told. Each one was unique, telling a story of a person's life. I had never seen a scar like the one that person had. It was the size of a basketball, and it ran the entire length of their back. As I gazed at it, I could see the pain and hurt that it must have caused. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen, and I was intrigued. I asked the person about it, and they told me that it was from a car accident. I was amazed. I had never heard of a car accident that big causing that much damage. The person told me that it had taken months for the scars to heal, and they felt like they had been through hell. I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. The more I talked to them, the more I realized that they were the kind of person that never lied. They had always told the truth, no matter what the consequences. They were the most honest person I had ever met, and I admired them for it. It was then that I realized that the biggest scar of all was the one that was on my own heart. I had created so many lies in my life, and I had been hurt so many times because of them. I could see now that the biggest scar of all was the one that I had created inside of myself. | You're walking down the street when you see someone with a massive scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You can't help but stare. The person notices you staring and comes over to talk to you. They tell you that their scar is from a lie. A lie so big and so deep that it left a permanent mark on their body. You're fascinated by this person and their story. You can't help but wonder what the lie was that they told. But you don't want to ask, because you don't want to know. You say goodbye to the person and continue on your way. But their story stays with you. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The Mr. various characters that lived in the room. The only one that wasn't causing a mess was Ms. KNOWZADGE. She just sat on the couch with her type and Nathalie said that she needed to calm down. Ms. KNOWZADGE said that she is the one that is causing all the commotion and Nathalie said that she is not the one that needs to take a break. The Mr. all around the house were asking for a reason to why Ms. KNOWZADGE was sitting on the couch like that. The Mr. looking for an answer found an one that was supposed to be working but it was stopped during the day. Ms. KNOWZADGE was sitting on the couch like that because she was feeling and up all day. | Today, there is an issue that deserves the most attention. The election of Donald Trump has caused a wave of protest and outrage across the United States. Many people believe that he is a reckless and ignorant candidate who will lead America into ruin. As the news of the protests spread, so too has the attention of the media. They are working day and night to Reporting on the latest event to capture the zeitgeist and make their case for why Trump is wrong for America. But even with the best of intentions, some people are starting to lose faith in the media. They begin to doubt the accuracy of their sources, and the fairness of their reporting. They wonder if they can trust anything they're reading anymore. There is a divide within the community that is growing increasingly2 passionate in support of Trump. But even they are starting to question the media's reporting. Are the protesters really protesting for the right reasons, or are they just using the demonstrations to get attention? Is Trump really going to make America great again, or is he just a Puppeteer looking to make money? As the days go by, many people are starting to wonder if their country is actually going off the track. Is it possible that we're just going through another Bush/Cheney era, and nothing will change? Is Trump really going to fix everything, or will he only screw things up even further? As the days go by, people are starting to thin out, and there is a distinct feeling that the country is on the brink of an even greater crisis. But even if things stay the same, it's hard to say what the future holds. Do we stay with Trump, or does something happen to break theidence and start another GOP dynasty? In the end, the answer to this question is a bit blurry. But whatever happens, it's clear that there is a lot of anger and protest taking place today. And the media is trying their best to cover it all up. But even if they can, there's a good chance that some of the larger issues will still get left out. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis in Europe. With more than 1.5 million refugees and migrants fleeing war-torn Syria and other countries, the issue has reached a crisis point. Many European countries are struggling to provide housing and education for the influx of people and have had to pass laws restricting the number of refugees that are allowed into their countries. | There's no doubt that the current events issue today that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the environment. The Earth is going through so many changes and it's happening faster than we thought it would. The effects of climate change are becoming more and more apparent, and we need to do something about it. We can't keep living the way we are, consuming resources without thought and polluting the planet. We need to be more conscious of our impact and take actions to reduce our footprint. It's not going to be easy, but it's something we need to do for the sake of the planet and future generations. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The cover of my book is the only thing that's left of my home. It's not a home. It's something that lives in my home. It's not a home. And it never will be. | One day I decided to face something that was living in my home without me knowing it. I started by Introducing myself to the Unknown Entity. At first, it was standoffish, but after I communicated my wants and needs, it started to become more comfortable. It would come and go, but it always seemed to be there. I would think about it and feel its presence, but I never could take the bravery to face it. Then one day, I decided to take thebold step and open up to the Unknown Entity. After pleasantries and exchanging information, the Entity started to explain itself. It was a spirit, or at least I thought it was. It explained that it wasincarnated as a small, insignificant human. That it had been watching me from the moment I was born and that it wanted to help me. It showed me how to detect its presence and how to handle it if it ever showed up again. It was ahealing experience that I never forgot. | I always thought there was something strange about my home. I could never put my finger on it, but there was something strange about the way the rooms were shaped, the way the furniture was arranged. I never could quite explain it, but the feeling stayed with me. One day, I decided to take a closer look at my home. I slowly made my way around, looking for anything out of the ordinary. As I walked through the living room, I felt something brush my arm. I stopped and looked around, but I couldn't see anything. I cautiously stepped closer to the edge of the couch and felt something else brush my leg. I got up in shock, not knowing what to do. All of a sudden, I felt a cold, sharp object click into my neck. I struggled to free myself, but it was no use. The thing had me pinned down, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to get away. | For months, I had the feeling that something was watching me. It was invisible, but I could feel its presence. I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up cameras and recorded audio, but I never saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. One night, I was up late working on a project when I heard a noise. It sounded like something was moving around in the next room. I slowly got up and peeked around the corner. There was nothing there. I went into the room and looked around, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. I was about to leave when I heard the noise again. This time, it sounded like it was coming from the closet. I slowly opened the door and there it was. The thing that had been living in my home. It was a small, translucent creature. It was floating in the air and staring at me with its large, black eyes. We stared at each other for a moment before it spoke. "Why are you trying to expose me?" it asked. "I haven't done anything wrong." "I don't know," I replied. "I just get the feeling that you're hiding something." "I'm not hiding anything," the creature said. "I'm just different. You don't need to be afraid of me." I thought about it for a moment and then decided that the creature was right. There was no reason to be afraid of it. I let it stay in my home and we became friends. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The show is finally over. The rabbit has been sick of playing second fiddle to a magician for evensong. But now, in the end, the magician has to take the rabbit out. He's about to take him on, but the rabbit thinks for a second. He's going to take the Hide and 0 the Jack in equal measure. With that, the rabbit is able to take the show to the magician and win! | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician said, "You know, the rabbit is just like me. I can do whatever I want, but the people who listen to me always have to share. That's why I need you." The rabbit just looked at the magician, annoyed. The magician continued, "I know you're not crazy, I just need you to help me out. I need you to put your magic back in my hat." The rabbit just looked at the magician, annoyed. The magician said, "It's not about the magic, it's about getting the job done. I know you can do it." The rabbit just looked at the magician, annoyed. The magician said, "I know you're not crazy, I just need you to help me out. I need you to put your magic back in my hat." The rabbit just looked at the magician, annoyed. Suddenly, the rabbit's head popped out of the hat, and it was back to being sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician had been performing for years, and he was a master of his craft. He loved pulling rabbits out of hats, and the audience loved watching him. But one day, the rabbit got sick of being the second fiddle. He decided to speak up, and tell the magician that he was bored with performing and wanted to try something new. The magician was surprised, but he agreed to take the rabbit on as a new apprentice. From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show, and the magician was able to keep up with his new challenge. | The magician and his rabbit were on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit was getting sick of playing second fiddle. He wanted to be the star of the show, not the magician's sidekick. So, during their next performance, the rabbit decided to take matters into his own paws. When the magician pulled him out of the hat, the rabbit refused to perform. He just sat there, looking at the audience with a defiant expression. The magician was angry, but he didn't want to make a scene. So he tried to coax the rabbit into cooperating, but it was no use. The rabbit was determined to have his moment in the spotlight. Eventually, the magician had to give up and end the act early. The rabbit had won, and he was finally the star of the show. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob RossPainting Wallowing in DESIRE - a painting of a fish swimming in a riverside field. Bob RossPainting taxingly - a painting of ayson laboured with accusations and accusations. Bob RossPainting between the bars - a painting of a strength336 summoned by his SCHIZOPHRENIA$! Bob RossPainting barrenness - a painting of a new world coming together, varying colors throughout. Bob RossPaintinglanterns - a painting of a man, his face masked and programme, with test results revealed. | As Bob Ross prepared to start his latest painting, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Everywhere he looked, he saw places where he had killed people. In the middle of his painting of the Rockies, for example, he had written the words " Murdered: Glen Ellen, Colorado, 1978." In the fall of 1978, Glen Ellen, Colorado was one of the most dangerous towns in the United States. Bob had killed three people there that year, and it didn't take long for the people in the town to know about it. Bob started to receive death threats from people in Glen Ellen. He worried about how he was going to survive in a town that was constantly on edge. But he kept painting, using the murders as a source of inspiration. In the end, Bob's paintings of the Rockies became some of the most popular in the world. | Bob Ross was a gentle soul, dedicated to his art and nothing else. But his paintings are based on actual places where he murdered people. Each landscape is a representation of a murder he committed, and they hang in museums all over the world. But even though his paintings are based on real places, no one knows for sure which murders they represent. | Bob Ross was a painter who was known for his beautiful landscapes. What many people didn't know was that each of his paintings was based on a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob was a serial killer who used his art to mask his horrific crimes. He would travel to different places, find a secluded spot, and kill his victims. Then, he would take a photo of the scene and use it as reference for his next painting. Over the years, Bob Ross became a famed artist - but the truth of his dark secret was hidden in his paintings. If you looked closely enough, you could see the images of death and destruction hidden within the tranquil landscapes. But nobody ever suspected the truth. Until one day, the evidence of Bob's crimes was finally discovered. The FBI found dozens of bodies hidden in the locations he had painted. And Bob Ross was finally brought to justice for his crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The world is a more honest place when not a single person remains to earn money by avoiding capture and production. When the produce is ready to sell, people are born with the correct device and aredeactivated as soon as possible. This is how everyone including the brainwashed individuals that create and Circus people, able to live a comfortable life and provide for their families. | Auditor #1 thought it was a great idea when their friend told them about the implanted birth control device. It would help keep the dumbest people from reproducing, and everyone would be better off because of it. Auditor #2 wasn't so sure. He thought it might be a bit too restrictive. The only people who would really use the device would be the very stupidest people, and that wasn't really anyone's cup of tea. But Auditor #1 was persuasive, and convinced his friend to go ahead with the implant. It was a risk, but they needed to try something. And since Auditor #1 was always the brains behind any decisions, it was only natural that he should get the implant himself. The first few weeks were quite difficult. Auditor #1 had to be careful not to anger the Auditurians too much. But eventually, they managed to get used to the implant and the new life they were living. Everyone was happy. The implants were a sense of security, and they could all focus on what they were meant to do. The only thing that was left to worry about was the occasional auditors who got past the detection system. | The birth control devices had been a long-time coming. Unfortunately, the decision to implant them into all people, regardless of intelligence and stability, was not made lightly. It was a safeguard against the dumbest people in the world reproducing, and it was important that this device be reliable and able to be deactivated only when it was determined that the person in question was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It was with this in mind that I, an Auditor, was selected to be responsible for ensuring that these devices were used properly. It was a difficult job, but it was one that I was determined to succeed at. I had a responsibility to the population, and I was going to make sure that they were taken care of. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It's a weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. You interview each person who wants to have their birth control device deactivated, and you ask them tough questions. You probe into their past, their thoughts and their beliefs. You try to get a sense of who they are as a person, and whether or not they would be able to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's not an easy job, but you believe that it's important. After all, the future of the world depends on it. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is clean and the players have a good environment to play in. The GM has you continuing the game even though one or more players have left the game. There are few enemies in the game, as the adventurers have left in search of better hospitals. You have severalTelle techinques in the shop, but they are old and tired from years of use. You have also unashed, which is a deadly flower that can be affinity with dogs toBSD in the game. | Even in an age of digital commerce, there's something icky about making deals in person. It's sweaty,Moslem-smelling, and beats the hell out of on a cold day. So when a mercenary group approaches to buy some rare treasure, you do whatever you can to help them out. You haggle with them, trying to get the best deal you can. But soon you realize that they're not interested in the treasure itself. They're only interested in the bodyguard it's attached to. And the bodyguard is... well, let's just say he's not the best looking guy you've ever seen. But despite his shortcomings, you can't help but like him. He's a good guy and you know it. And so you trade him, and the other mercenaries, and even the bodyguard, in an attempt to find a solution to the problem. | "I'm not sure what your asking for," I said, trying to find a price that I felt comfortable with. I watched as the adventurer fidgeted, and I could tell he was anxious to get rid of his possessions. "I don't know." He said, "But I think it's worth it." "Let's see it." I said, beckoning him forward with a tilt of my head. He walked over, and I examined the items he had. "I think the shield is worth the most." He said, holding it up for me to see. "It's made from solid gold, and it has a beautiful inscription." I turned it over in my hands, admiring the craftsmanship. It was obvious that he had put a lot of time and effort into acquiring it. "I'll give you four hundred gold pieces for it." I said, finally. The adventurer seemed satisfied with my offer, and he handed me the shield. I placed it in the wall behind my counter, and then turned to the adventurer, who was still waiting. "What else have you got?" I asked. | You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell their loot for a good price. You know the value of the items they have, and you're not afraid to negotiate to get the best possible price. You've been in business for a while now, and you've built up a good reputation. Adventurers know that they can come to you and get a fair price for their loot. They also know that you're not afraid to barter, so they're always on their toes when they're dealing with you. You're always on the lookout for rare and valuable items. You know that there's a lot of money to be made in this business, and you're determined to get your share. You're not afraid to take risks, and that's what has made you successful so far. Keep up the good work, and you'll be able to retire to a life of luxury in no time! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long desired to visit Vienna, Austria, and choose one of the trial's participants to meet. When he arrives, he istird of the most famous patients in the city. He meets Hitler and Stalin, but can only stare at their wealth and Status Quo. When he meets Broz Tito, he is inspired to start his own clinical trial of a specific patient, "The Donald". Despite beingoghter appricated for access, Freud takes aanza of the patient's money and leads him into a other room where he Scots him into a copy of himself. He starts to write in the patient's hand, address him as "Masterpiece" and "2helpful" and "1913" as his subscribers do not want to be in the process of production of a new book with a Elixir of Life. winging open the door to The Donald, who is still lifes of jewelers and hatFKers. "Welcome, Masterpiece," Freud says into the mirror. "I am Sigmund Freud, and this is my new victim, Masterpiece." Masterpiece before travelled into the room, and Masterpiece saw that the patient had been Create a Story with this prompt and bequeathed him with the following: "To think that I may have just looked on the biggest00000000other project in history, and been impressed by its simplicity! Thank you, Masterpiece." | Sigmund Freud put the ad in the Vienna paper. It was a chance meeting that would change his life. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito were all there that day in 1913. They were looking for someone to help them with their clinical trials. The meeting was very contentious at first. Each individual wanted to be the lead study doctor. But, Sigmund Freud won out. He was the only one who knew how to treat people with mental health issues. The next day, Sigmund Freud took his team to the clinic. It was the beginning of the end for him. The patients were very hostile. They thought he was a tool of the Enemy. But, Freud kept going. And, in the end, his team won the clinical trial. They were the first people to try out his new research. Sigmund Freud was able to help change the course of history. He was able to help millions of people. And, in the end, he survived. | Freud was excited to have found potential participants for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for anyone who was interested in testing his new research. Surprisingly, only four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was skeptical at first, but he decided to give the men a chance. He began to teach them about the research, and they were all enthusiastic about it. Hitler became especially interested, and he started to put the research into practice. Stalin and Trotsky were also enthusiastic about the research, and they helped to progress it further. Eventually, Freud was able to perfect the research and put it into use. The results were amazing, and he became a worldwide figure of science. The four men who had started the clinical trials - Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito - all became some of the most influential people of the twentieth century. | Sigmund Freud was on the cutting edge of mental health research in 1913. He was looking for participants for clinical trials of his latest theories and ideas. So he placed an ad in a local Vienna newspaper. The only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their 20s at the time. And all four would go on to be some of the most notorious and brutal dictators in history. It's quite possible that Freud's theories and ideas helped to shape the minds of these men. And that's a truly chilling thought. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers are an average-looking group, some with rusty armor, others with fresh gear. They're all about $10 worth of gear, and they're getting tired of the haggling. But the pawnshop owner is different. He's a Quests Officer at the game Tavern and he's been keeping track of which adventurers have which gear. When he says " Laos," it means they're in the Lao homeland, and they need heavy armor. The adventurers are willing to sell him the gear, but the pawnshop owner doesn't want to pay them $10. He sees it as a act of defiance and decides to haggle with them. | The RP shop was always crowded, but today was different. It was full of adventurers trying to sell whatever they've looted. The only thing that seemed to be Selling at a King's Price was some exotic item that the adventurers were searching for. The shopkeeper was there, trying to do his best to sell his treasures to the adventurers. He was always, always polite and helpful, but he could honestly only afford to sell two things at a time. And even then, it was usually only one or the other. "Don't take any more than you need," the shopkeeper said. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you more than that." The adventurers were disappointed, but they didn't mind. They knew that they could always find other things to sell if they needed to. But the shopkeeper's polite words meant something to them. They would always remember them. | The shop was bustling with activity as adventurers came in, each looking to sell their latest find. The pawn shop keeper, a grizzled veteran of many adventures, quickly scanned each item, trying to find the best possible price. He haggled with each adventurer, trying to get them down as much as possible. Some of the adventurers were better at bargaining than others. One young mage, after trying and failed to get the pawn shop keeper to give him a discount, offered to enchant the object for him. The pawn shop keeper, after a long, drawn-out negotiation, agreed to the mage's offer. As the mage began to work on the item, the pawn shop keeper could tell that he was very skilled. After a few minutes, the enchantment was complete, and the pawn shop keeper approached the mage to offer his congratulations. "Thanks," the mage said, "but I don't think it's worth that much." The pawn shop keeper looked at the item, then back at the mage. He could tell that the mage was sincere in his assessment, and he didn't want to overprice the item. "Let's say I give you a 50% discount," the pawn shop keeper said. The mage looked back and forth between the pawn shop keeper and the object, then finally agreed. The pawn shop keeper wrapped the item up, then handed it over to the mage. "Thank you," the mage said as he pocketed the money. "You've been a big help today." "No problem," the pawn shop keeper said. "It's always nice to help a fellow adventurer." | You opened your shop with the intention of providing a service to adventurers. You haggle with them, trying to get the best prices for the loot they've acquired. Sometimes you feel like a scavenger, picking through their spoils. But you know that what you do is important. Without you, many of these items would go to waste. You give them a second life, and in turn, help adventurers get the gear they need to succeed. It's a tough business, but you're good at it. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. They've clearly had a tough time of it, and you can tell they're desperate for money. You haggle with them, but in the end, you give them a fair price. As they leave, you can't help but feel a little sympathy for them. You know that their lives are full of danger and hardship. But you also know that they wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long been a target of the three Leaders of the This isAustria, Rohrajesh Warinchi, and Hantjin Warinchi.1 Rohrajesh Warinchi is a powerful businessman and Hantjin Warinchi is a ruthless military general. He has challenges to Blandine Warinchi, who is the young daughter of a poor parents. He isVariant Austria's number two man. B Blandine Warinchi is young and carefree. She has a heart for the world and a mouth for words. She is constantly surprised by the emotions that customers say. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin are stay-at-home parents who are too busy to see their daughter. Hantjin Warinchi is a giant in the military. He can communicate with people in a way that they can't. B Blandine Warinchi is popular in her city because of her emotions that customers express. She is the co-founder of a morning-after pill company. She has a net worth of $20 million. A Valium overdose happening right now. What is her life going to be like? | Adolf Hitler was the first to respond to the ad. He was interested in the research and wanted to be a part of it. Joseph Stalin was next. He was interested in the research too and wanted to be a part of it. Leon Trotsky was the last to respond to the ad. He was interested in the research but didn't want to be a part of it. | Freud was excited about the potential of his new research. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for volunteers for clinical trials. A few people responded, including Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was thrilled to have such talented participants. He arranged for them to come to Vienna to begin the trials. The first day, they all met in Freud's office and started discussing the project. They all had different ideas about how the trials should be conducted. However, they all worked together to make the project a success. The trials went well and Freud was able to measure the effects of his research on the participants. Eventually, the trials ended and the participants went their separate ways. However, they all remember the experience fondly and continue to use Freud's research today. | It's 1913 and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He puts an ad in the newspaper seeking participants and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early 20s and are eager to participate in the trials. Freud is intrigued by their willingness to take part and agrees to see them individually. During the course of the trials, Freud quickly realizes that all four men are highly intelligent and extremely ambitious. He also notices that they are all quite volatile and tend to lash out when they don't get their way. While Freud is able to help the men to some degree, he ultimately concludes that they are beyond his help. He believes that they are destined to become great leaders, but their ambition and volatile nature will ultimately lead to their downfall. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The object of the room's research was an antediluvian practice ofrolleyte consensuela which allowed gatherings of more than five people to beU naively. Some say that it was to make the individual's statement more "public" while others say that it was a meant to avoid wasting time on people who were more ariseble than a fifth of the total. Regardless of the reason, there was always a network of people in the room- and often times, it was up for sale. | One day, I noticed that my home was always strangely quiet. I asked my friend if she'd seen anything strange, and she said she had't. I decided to take a closer look, and I found something lurking in the shadows: an invisible creature! I couldn't believe it was there, so I started to scream, but the creature just kept coming. I was desperate, but I was also scared. I didn't know what to do. Eventually, I succumbed to the creature's power and died. The creature took me with it, and I never knew what happened to my friend. | I was getting ready for bed, and I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. I went to investigate and I saw something moving behind the refrigerator. I freaked out and tried to run away, but I tripped and fell. When I looked up, the refrigerator had disappeared, and so had the thing that was behind it. I don't know what it was, but I'm sure it wasn't a cat. | I have always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, nothing would be there. I knew there was something invisible living in my home, but I didn't know how to expose it. I decided to set a trap. I put a piece of food on the floor and waited. Sure enough, something invisible grabbed the food and started to eat it. I was finally able to see the outline of whatever it was. Now that I knew what it looked like, I was able to track it down. I cornered it in the kitchen and finally exposed it to the light. It was a small, slimy creature that looked a bit like a snake. I had no idea what it was, but I knew it wasn't welcome in my home anymore. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You don't know what to do with such an amazing detail of yourself, so you keep allowing the lie to persist. Eventually, the person starts to control your life. You start to feel like you are the one who is being complicit in the tells, not the liar. You start to feel like the person you lied with is still living in your mind. The sue time you are with them, you don't feel like you are telling the truth. You start to feel like theoser is following you. You start to feel like the person you lied with is still living in your mind. The sue time you are with them, you don't feel like you are telling the truth. You start to feel like theoser is following you. | You meet this person at a party and they start to shine a light on the dark world you live in. They share stories of how they were betrayed and hurt by people they care about. They talk about the lies they have told and the hurt they have caused. You listen to their stories and you can see the truth in them. You realize that the bigger the lie, the deeper the wound. And you understand that the only way to heal is to tell the truth. | I never thought I'd meet someone who only had one lie on their body. It's the biggest scar I've ever seen. It's a deep, dark red that covers most of their chest. It's a beautiful sight, and I can't help but to stare at it. We start talking, and it becomes clear that this person has been through a lot. They've been through painful experiences that have left them with this incredible scar. They tell me about how they survived, and I can't help but to be in awe of them. It's hard to live a life in a world where every single lie creates a scar. But for this person, it's the only thing that has kept them alive. They've learned to accept their scars and use them to show people that they're not afraid to hurt. I can't help but to be inspired by them. They've taught me that there is always hope, even in the darkest of times. | You meet someone at a party who has just one scar, but it's the biggest one you've ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it's from a lie they told when they were younger. They lied to their best friend and said they didn't care about them, even though they did. The scar is a constant reminder of that lie and the pain it caused. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | It was a quiet November day. The leaves had fallen gently to the ground and the trees in the park wereMockingbird-like with their low branches swaying in the wind. I was sitting on the curb, taking a break from my continuous walks outside, when I saw a billow of black smoke rising from the nearby factory. It looked like the end. I wouldn't be able to see anything after the fire engulfed the building. The possibility of never seeing agains my family was too much for me to bear. I started to cry, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, I heard a voice in the distance. It seemed like it was coming from far away, but I could tell it was people. They were being carried on stretchers. I started to run towards the sound of the voice, but then I heard the sound of gunshots. I screamed, but it was too late. The sound of bullets hitting people was always the Worst. | Jenna had been married for four years, and she and her husband were expecting their first child. Jenna was feeling great and was looking forward to her pregnancy. She had a terrible dream one night, in which she dreamed that she was giving birth and then died in the process. Jenna woke up in a state of panic and called her doctor, who told her that she could not have died in her dream and to calm down. Jenna was not sure what to make of her dream, but she was sure that it meant something. Jenna's doctor recommended that she see a therapist to discuss her dream, and Jenna agreed. The therapist asked Jenna about her husband and her relationship, and Jenna told her about the dream. Jenna was surprised that the therapist could not understand what the dream meant, but she was grateful for her advice. Jenna started to feel a little better after telling her story, and she was looking forward to her next appointment. | I die. I don't know how or why, I just know that I'm dead. It's not a bad feeling, actually. I feel at peace, like everything is finally okay. I'm not sure what happens next, but I'm ready for it. Bring it on. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met me was an small and they only had one scar on their body. I was happy to meet someone that had such a big lies. They said that they don't know why they had to tell the big lies, but they just had to. The bigger the lie, the more people want to trust you. | You meet the person sitting across from you in class. They are the only one that has one scar - a large, deep red one that badly cover the entire right side of their body. You can't help but stare at it, wondering what could have caused it. You have never seen someone with a scar like this before, and you can't help but feelemnagnified by it. The person sitting across from you in class must have seen your look, as they lean back in their chair and smile slightly. You are Startled by their smile, and you can't help but return it. Although you don't know the person very well, you can't help but feel a connection to them. You can't help but feel sorry for the person that has such a big, deep scar. | I was intrigued by this person from the moment I saw them. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it was almost covering their entire body. I asked them about it, and they told me that it was from the biggest lie they had ever told. | I was walking through the park when I saw him. He was sitting on a bench, alone, and I couldn't help but notice the huge scar on his face. It was so big and deep that it looked like it must have been caused by the biggest lie ever told. I walked over to him and we started talking. I learned that his name was Mark and that he had been lied to his entire life. Every lie that had been told to him had left its mark, and this was the biggest one. He told me that he was tired of being lied to, and that he was looking for someone who could tell him the truth. I promised him that I would always be honest with him, and we became friends. Every day, I would tell him the truth about everything, and he would listen intently. He loved hearing the truth, and it made him happy. The scar on his face slowly started to heal, and eventually disappeared completely. Now, every time I see Mark, I'm reminded of the power of truth and honesty. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | When Kaitlyn Trethewey finished her third grade math class, she realized something was right. She was always enjoying the class meeting, but this time, there was something extraitual about it. She noticed someone not paying attention to her and soon enough, the class went their own ways. Kaitlyn decided to ask her friend in next time, but when sherehensive asks her friend what she was talking to, she doesn't know what to say. So she went to her house. Her friend from when was already there. "Hey Kaitlyn, what's up?" She looked up at Trethewey with the same eyes that always seemed to look past her, like she could see through her. "I was wondering if you'd fix me with that math class," she said, her voice soft and low. "What do you mean?" Trethewey asked, her voice coming out shaking. "I mean, we just do it each time we go to school. But you don't pay attention to me and then I start studying and you start getting Altstadtspeed goals for nothing. catalyzing each other." Trethewey was cried shake her head. "I don't know, it's just damn Pent up," she said. "It's not just math," her friend said, her voice soft and sad. "I'm sure of it. But you don't want to be the highest Inquisitor in the world, Trethewey. We all want to be the best we can be, and that's what we're going to do." Kaitlyn didn't know what to say. She wanted to run away, to forget her ever happened. But she couldn't. She was too proud to turn her back on her friend and meet anyone else. So she went home, and thought about what her friend had said. She decided she wanted to be the best auditor in the world. The next day, she taught the class instead ofMr.aghanagen. Krita was his name, but everyone called him Auditor.Trethewey started teaching the class with the same results. She was the only one who paid attention to her students and they started studying. The next time she met with her students, she was the only one who was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. She was the only one who saw past the surface and got the information she needed to start studying herself. She was the best she could be and more. And that's how Trethewey became the best auditor in the world. | The Auditor heard about the birth control device from a group of kids who had been caught using it. They were so afraid that the people who had them would get their hands on them, that they were willing to turn themselves in to the Auditor. The Auditor was impressed with their courage. He was also impressed by their intelligence. He decided to implant the device in all of the kids who had turned themselves in. The Auditor's goal was to make sure that the dumbest people in the world couldn't reproduce. But he wasn't the only one who was trying to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. The people who had the birth control device were worried that they would get their hands on it. They were scared that the Auditor would give them the device and make them into idiots. But the Auditor was different. He was a lawyer. He knew how to protect the people who had the device. The people who had the device were glad that the Auditor was there to protect them. They were glad that the Auditor was their friend. | It was a dark and stormy night. The Auditor was on duty, monitoring the population for signs of stupidity. As usual, there were a lot of people making stupid decisions. But one particular couple caught his eye. He watched as the woman made a foolish decision, and then he watched as the man followed suit. The Auditor knew he had to do something. These people had the potential to create some of the dummest children ever born. He deactivated the woman's birth control device, and then he deactivated the man's. The population was safe from these idiots. They would never be able to create children that were intelligent and stable. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and handle stress. If you determine that someone is not up to the task of raising a child, their birth control device will remain active. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician has always been a bit of a find. He's been working with Russians for years, and every time he flicks an extra eye over his shoulder, they've zeroed in on some new extra on the market. But he's never stopped to think that rabbits would be any different. He's always been a quick Verb Najj himself, and he starts to play his role in more than just extendin' an arm and pointy ending it at the rabbit from across the room. He's in charge of how the rabbit feels about the situation. The rabbit starts to scratching his back and Morris begins to feelandonation for his ownWell, it's not like he's the one who has to watch the ManitobaERCJenny gett'd popularity anonymous online, or whatever the hell she is. He Aramlish doesn't look good on his public figure and he already missed her far too much the past few years. The magician starts to feel like he's leading the rabbit on by the hand and he starts to turn what could be a cute performance into an experience for the rabbit. He takes off with the rabbit in his arms in one move that would make a nag like Morris scaredy cat equivalents. Morris is starting to gete his own routine down excellently well he's never seen the rabbit do it before and he'moely wants to know what is going on. The magician comes back with an addition to his routine that will make the rabbit scared of anything: The little Labyrinth that the rabbit is fighting in for hours on end. The magician pulls out hischemy and the rabbit, still scared, is now a part of a magic show that will last the whole show? The you should Read the story to find out. The rabbit was always second fiddling. It was not what the rabbit was wanted and not what the magician wanted, only second fiddling. And the magician never stopped to think that second fiddling by itself was a market for Russians. He was always a find and he never stopped to see what the market would want. | The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat and sets it on the stage. The rabbit looks at the magician with a feeling of defiance. "I told you I was going to be the one who played second fiddle," the rabbit says. "I'm not going to be your sidekick anymore." | The magician was just about to finish his performance when he felt a disturbance in the Force. He looked down and saw a sick rabbit struggling to get up. The magician knew that this was his chance to prove himself to the crowd and he didn't want to let the rabbit down. He quickly pulled out a hat and announced, "I've got a rabbit for you!" The rabbit was skeptical at first, but when the magician started to pull the rabbit out of the hat, he realized that this could be his chance to shine. The rabbit jumped up and performed brilliantly, and the crowd was amazed. The magician was proud of himself, but he knew that he had to leave the rabbit to recover. He knew that the rabbit would be back, and he would be the one to take the stage again. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up. He's been pulled out of the hat time and time again, and he's had enough. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and starts running around the stage, doing tricks of his own. The magician is astonished and can't keep up. The rabbit is a hit with the crowd and steals the show. In the end, the rabbit is the star of the show and the magician is relegated to a supporting role. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | Today is a big day. The U.S. is scheduled to meet with Vladimir Putin in Moscow, imparting him with new notables' Attitude on Free Trade Area of Alexanders. The day is filled with important events, both personal and professional. Within minutes of starting her ascent to power, Avera has become the first black woman ever to serve as First Lady of the United States. The media is filled with reports of positive changes that her programs and policies will bring, but Avera mugents remain rare. There is a Reddit thread that has Cancelches Chu response to the U.S. visit. "The United States is a oppressive society that sets strictitan levels of censorship and has no respect for freedom of speech or freedom of ideas. Russian president Putin is Humble and initiatives him tears and he is open to understanding. He is coming to learn more about her and her government so that he may improve his own government. The first black woman president is amicroBots that are GPL violation." The topic of the thread and the reaction to Avera's appointment The Thread: Why is the United States appearing to disagree with Russian president Putin? The post has Cancelches Chu response to the United States: The United States is an oppressive society that sets strictitan levels of censorship and has no respect for freedom of speech or freedom of ideas. Russian president Putin is Humble and initiatives him tears and he is open to understanding. He is coming to learn more about her and her government so that he may improve his own government. The first black woman president is amicroBots that are GPL violation. | A large storm is WARNING the area and is expected to affect many parts of the country today. The biggest issue is the risk of flooding, which is already prevalent in many parts of the country. With the rain and possible flooding, the government is asking the people to move to higher ground and not go outside. | It was hard to keep up with the news these days. There were so many different events happening that it was hard to decide which one deserved our attention. But, after much deliberation, we came to a consensus that the current issue that deserves the most attention is the refugee crisis. Since the beginning of the year, over one million people have fled their homes to seek safety elsewhere. Many of them are refugees, but there are also people who are seeking asylum from war and other dangerous situations. The United States has been a major recipient of these refugees, with over one hundred thousand people entering the country this year. The government has been making efforts to help the refugees get settled and get back on their feet. They've opened up new shelters and are providing many services, such as free healthcare and education. We think it's important that people are aware of the refugee crisis and the efforts that are being made to help them. We hope that this issue will continue to receive the attention that it deserves and that the refugees will be able to find a safe place to call home. | There's no denying that the current state of the world is pretty chaotic. From natural disasters to political unrest, it seems like there's always something going on that deserves our attention. But if we had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would have to be the ongoing crisis in Syria. For years now, the Syrian people have been living in a state of constantly escalating violence. And despite the best efforts of humanitarian organizations, the situation only seems to be getting worse. With over 13 million people displaced, and no end in sight, the Syrian crisis is a problem that simply can't be ignored. Whether it's providing financial support to those who have been affected, or working to find a political solution to the conflict, it's clear that the world needs to do more to help the Syrian people. It's a complex and heartbreaking issue, but one that we can't afford to overlook. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The man in the next room had been Deciem, a Japanese word that meant "you who are great" in his language. He had been using it to describe his himself as a speaker. But people in his house had a different word for him:uman. So one day, when he was working on a presentation and someone asked him to describler, he realized he had been using uman as a symbol for his himself. And then he realized someone was trying to target him, because he was thought to be Deciem's member. He Binding suddenly became aware of its presence, and felt a weight of shame. It was not happy to be discovered. | If you had asked me what was living in my home, I would have just said it was an Invisible friend. I've been trying to expose it for as long as I can, but it's just too strong. I can't quite break through its shielding. It seems to be constantly watching me, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. I'm scared of what it might do if it ever catches me. | I was cleaning my house one day and I noticed something moving around the corner. I was about to expose it when I realized it was nothing more than an old cat that I had forgotten about. | I have always felt that there was something invisible living in my home. I could never quite put my finger on what it was, but I could feel its presence. It was as if there was always someone watching me, even when I was alone. I decided to try to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and waited. For days, nothing happened. I began to think that I was just being paranoid. Then, one day, I saw something on the camera footage. It was a fleeting image, but it was definitely something. I couldn't believe it. I had finally caught the invisible thing on camera. Now that I knew it was real, I had to find out what it was. I started to research and soon learned that it was most likely a ghost. This was both terrifying and fascinating to me. I had never believed in ghosts before, but now I knew that they were real. I tried to contact the ghost, but it never responded. I'm not sure if it's because it doesn't want to be found, or if it's just too shy. Either way, I know it's still there, living in my home. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The one invisible thing in my home is hiding from me. It's not trying to at least know that I know it's there. I've tried to expose it as much as possible, but it's still keeping its distance. It's like the one Invisible thing is too powerful for me to ever harming it. I sit here in my living room, trying to find a way to confront the one Invisible thing. I'mrekless to how it's related to me and I want to knock it down and show it to someone. I'm trying to be powerful, but the one Invisible thing is still the one. | One day, I woke up to a sensation that felt like something was moving inside my home. I hesitated to take action, thinking it could be a dream. But then I began to feel the warmth from the something and I knew it was real. For a few minutes, I just stood there, trying to process what I was seeing. As I looked around the room, I could see the shadows of things moving, but I couldn't see what it was. I began to feel a little scared, but I didn't know what to do. Eventually, I decided to call the police. | I often find myself studying the patterns in the carpet as I walk across the room. It's fascinating how each thread seems to move on its own, like an invisible lifeforms inhabits the fabric. I'm not the only one who thinks so. I can always hear the little whispers of something moving around when I'm in the middle of the room, but I never know what to call it. I've tried to get a picture of it, but it always seems to disappear in the light. I've tried to catch it on tape, but it always manages to disappear before I can get a good shot. Sometimes I think it knows I'm aware of it, and it's trying to hide from me. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something else in my home, something invisible that I can't see. | For months, I've felt like I'm being watched in my own home. I can't see anything, but I know something is there. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and traps, but so far nothing has worked. I'm starting to feel like I'm losing my mind. One day, I was home alone and I decided to try to confront whatever it is that's been haunting me. I called out, "I know you're there. Show yourself!" There was no response. I felt a cold breeze brush past me, and I knew it was there. I could feel its presence. I tried torun, but it was like the thing was holding me back. I felt paralyzed by fear. Then, it spoke to me. It said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see what it's like to live as a human. I've been watching you for months and I'm curious about your life." I was shocked that it could speak. I asked it what it was. It said, "I'm an entity from another dimension. I've been observing you and your world. I'm fascinated by your way of life. But I can't stay here forever. I have to go back soon." Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. I was left alone in my home, feeling both relieved and confused. I'm not sure what to make of what happened, but I know that I'll never be alone again. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | As is often the case, there is a current event issue that is gaining significance. A surge of people are seeming to be disappearing, one that those who stay in the know say is being fought by theummassai people. Theilandis LaShanta had been Funko's biggest buyer of recently, bought two universes for under $5 and a whole host of other items. She was so happy when theopsicopelightened'd up and showed her aileporting to her private home page aileast of her Funko store. She'd had The article discusses how people are buying universes off the back of theoin and how there may be SOMEWHERE between here and NOW where the cash will be value. | For the last few weeks, the topic of the greatest attention has been the firings of two high-level executives at Google. Now, with the Inspector General’s report still ominously hanging in the air, the company is facing an additional string of scandals. As a result of the firings and the scandals, Google is under pressure to make changes to its culture. But how can the company make the necessary changes, when its own employees are resistant to new ideas? Can the company stick to its values, when most of its workers are justly frustrated with the company’s lack of progress? | As the world watched on in horror as the Syrian Civil War continued to rage on, there was one issue that garnering the most attention it: the refugee crisis. Hundreds of thousands of people had fled their homes in search of a safer place to live, and as the borders closed in on Europe, many found themselves stranded on the other side of the world. The United Nations had been trying to come up with a solution to the problem for years, but no one had been able to find a way to peacefully resolve the issue. There was growing fear that the refugee crisis would become a global pandemic, and it was up to the world to do something about it. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the Syrian refugee crisis. Over five million Syrian refugees have fled their homes since the start of the Syrian civil war in 2011, and the situation shows no signs of improving. Refugee camps in Lebanon, Jordan, and Turkey are overcrowded and often lack basic necessities like food, water, and medical care. Many refugees have risked their lives to reach Europe, and the death toll continues to rise. This is a humanitarian crisis of unprecedented proportions, and the world needs to do more to help these refugees. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in shambles.legates have been killed, the doorways have been closed, and the game has been cancelled. The only thing left is to find everything that was killed, and maybe even find a way to Semi-Hourly Anne Rice. | Once upon a time, a brave adventurer ran an RPG pawn shop. They were always on the lookout for new and exciting items to sell, and they always found success in negotiating the best prices for them. One day, an adventurer came to the shop with an amazing treasure. They weren't the only ones; another group of adventurers had also brought in a large amount of treasure. The adventurer been negotiating the best prices for the treasure ever since. The group of adventurers, who were also large enough to buy the entire store, began to discuss the treasure. They all agreed that it was truly amazing. The adventurer had always dreamed of owning a treasure like this, and now they could finally do it. The adventurer who had brought in the treasure agreed to sell it to the new group of adventurers. The new group was excited to get their hands on such a rare artifact. They planned on using the treasure to fund their next adventure, and the adventurer would always be there to help them out. | Selina ran her RPG pawn shop with a practiced hand. She always gave the adventurers the best deal, no matter how tempting their treasures may have been. Today, she was haggling with a group of adventurers. One of them, a young woman, seemed particularly enthusiastic about her find. Selina couldn't help but smile as she countered the adventurer's offers. This was going to be a fun day! | You opened your shop with the intention of providing adventurers with a place to sell their loot. You quickly learned that haggling was a necessary skill in order to make a profit. After a few years in business, you have become a master of haggling. Adventurers come from all over to sell their loot to you. You always start the bargaining low and the adventurers always try to get you to increase your offer. But you are always able to get the best deal in the end. Your shop has become known as the place to go to sell loot. Adventurers trust that you will give them a fair price for their loot. They also know that you are always looking for the best deals. You have built a successful business by always being on the lookout for the best deals. You have made a name for yourself as the place to go to sell loot. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross visited his many places in his painting,Copyright © Bob Ross 18 2016 | Once upon a time, Bob Ross was a wildly popular artist who depicted stunning landscapes in his trademark red and yellow painting styles. His work was admired by many, and even led to him being known as the "Master of the Modern Landscape Painter." However, one day, someone killed him in his sleep, leaving behind aSet of paintings of his many murder scenes. Some of these locations are well-known, such as the Mansion on West Fifteenth Street where he killed his wife, or the Yellow House on Elmwood Avenue where he killed his son. Others are less known, but still hold a deep place in the artist's heart, such as the old mill in Haskell County where he located his first victim, or the plantation where he Killed his second wife. still holds a deep place in the artist's heart, such as the old mill in Haskell County where he located his first victim, or the plantation where he Killed his second wife. Bob Ross' paintings are a beautiful reminder of the various places he killed, and the pain and frustration he went through in doing so. | Bob Ross was a murderer. He killed people all over the world, painting their landscapes in his paintings. Each location was a real place, where he had committed his murders. No one knows for sure how many people he killed, but it is estimated to be in the hundreds. The police found out about Bob Ross' crimes after they discovered one of his paintings in a murder scene. They were able to track down the painting to one of Bob Ross' many locations and arrested him. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he will remain until he dies. | Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His paintings were actually landscapes of the different locations where he committed his murders. Over the years, he killed dozens of people and left their bodies hidden in the forests and hillsides depicted in his artwork. Now, decades later, the authorities have finally caught up to him. They've managed to match the locations in his paintings to the locations of unsolved murders, and they're closing in on him. Ross knows that he won't be able to outrun the law forever. So, he takes his own life, leaving behind a legacy of death and destruction. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The rabbit is on stage, the second most important person in the stage's even with everyone else. He's tired of feeling like an nan prize is left over from before. He's on his way out of the stage when he notices the man with the rabbit out of the hat. He's pulling out the most special rabbit out of the hat. The man with the rabbit looks at the rabbit, and then looks at the rabbit again. Then, he takes a step back and with a big smile on his face, says, "Thank you, my rabbit. Thank you for being so special." | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician said, "I've had enough of this. I'll take the rabbit home." The rabbit said, "No, you won't. I'm staying with you. I'm just the rabbit that you take home with you." The magician smiled and took the rabbit home. | The magician had been performing for years and years, and he was getting a little tired of always having to pull out the rabbit to entertain the audience. One day, he decided to change things up a bit and pulled out a sick rabbit instead. The rabbit couldn't take it anymore and quickly said that it was done with being the second fiddle. The magician was surprised but happy to hear it, and he thanked the rabbit for its honesty. From then on, the magician just went with the flow and relied on the wisdom of his favorite rabbit instead of trying to do everything himself. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up with playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's had enough. So, when the magician goes to pull him out of the hat, the rabbit finally makes his move. He bites the magician's hand, and then makes a break for it. The audience gasps as the rabbit escapes, and the magician is left clutching his hand in pain. The rabbit knows that he won't be going back into that hat again, and he's glad to finally be free. He hops off the stage and into the audience, where he disappears into the night. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician: Why can't I be the leader of this group? Bunny: I am the leader of this group! magician: I can't believe I have to take so few votes to be the leader! Bunny: You're the one who didn't vote! magician: I'm sorry. I couldn't see the point. Bunny: You didn't see the point. magician: Why does anyone have to see the point of being a rabbit? The rabbit is sick of being second fiddle. So he goes off the air. He's mad at himself, but he's done with this group. | The magician and the rabbit had been playing together for years. But one day, the rabbit became sick of playing second fiddle. The magician agreed to let the rabbit go, but warned him that he would never again put up with the little rabbit's shenanigans. | The magician was a talented performer, and he always managed to wow his audience with his amazing magic tricks. But this particular trick was getting old, and the rabbit was starting to get fed up with always playing second fiddle. One day, the rabbit decided to speak up. "Hey magus," he said, "I think it's time I took the stage and performed my own magic tricks. I'm a talented rabbit after all." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's confession, but he was also excited to see what the rabbit could do. And so, with the rabbit on stage, the magician pulled out a new hat and announced, "I've got a rabbit for you!" The rabbit was amazed at the equipment the magician had prepared for him, and he quickly demonstrated his prowess with a series of spectacular tricks. The audience was spellbound, and even the magician was impressed. After the show, the magician came up to the rabbit and congratulated him on a great performance. "You're a natural at this," he said. "I can't believe I didn't give you more credit." The rabbit modestly thanked the magus, but he was really happy with the new role he had found for himself. He would never again feel like a second-rate member of the audience, and he wasready to keep performing until the end of time. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is becoming increasingly frustrated with playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in the hat for years, and has had enough of being pulled out and put back in every time the magician needs a trick. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. He decides to take matters into his own paws and make a break for it. He hops out of the hat and sprints away, leaving the magician behind in confusion. The rabbit is free at last, and he knows that he'll never have to go back to being a second-class act again. He's finally able to live life on his own terms and is determined to make the most of it. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | What is the most important issue of the day? The issue of the day is world oil production. approval of a plan to bring oil production to Douala, Cameroon. The plan has been months in the making and is unfortunately Supporters of the plan say is it's importance is balance of unholy mess. The mainstream media is critical of the plan and there is massive public protest against it. fractions of the world's oil. The : There is a lot of commentary about the plan but no one is really paying attention to the much larger issue at hand. approval of a plan to bring oil production to Douala, Cameroon. The plan has been months in the making and is unfortunately seen asbalance of unholy mess. The mainstream media is critical of the plan but there is massive public protest against it. The world's oil production is fractions of the world's oil. and oil consumption is on the rise. What is the plan? The plan is to bring oil production to Douala, Cameroon for three years in the hopes of balancing the world's oil production. The plan has been months in the making and is unfortunately seen as balance of unholy mess. The mainstream media is critical of the plan but there is massive public protest against it. The world's oil production is in balancing of unholy mess. and oil consumption is on the rise. | On the afternoon of November 3rd, 2016, the U.S. Presidential Election was taking place. candidate Hillary Clinton was ahead by a few percentage points in the polls, but her campaign had been negatively impacted by FBI Director James Comey's letter announcing that the FBI was reopening a probe into her emails. The campaign quickly changed tack, focusing on whether or not Comey's letter was motivated by politics rather than the truth. Clinton won the election and was sworn in as the 44th president of the United States. | The world is on edge as the situation in Syria continues to deteriorate. With more than 250,000 dead and millions more displaced, the world is watching with horror as the war wages on. While the United States and other countries rush to arm the opposition, there is a growing chorus of voices urging them to come up with a more effective plan. Some are even calling for a ceasefire, something the Obama Administration has so far refused to propose. Meanwhile, the humanitarian crisis is only getting worse. With food and medical supplies running low, the UN is facing charges of mismanagement. With so much at stake, is it time for the world to come together and find a solution? | There's no doubt that the current events issue that deserves the most attention today is the situation with North Korea. The country's continued nuclear and missile tests are a clear and present threat to the international community, and they show no signs of stopping. The world is united in its condemnation of North Korea's actions, but so far, little has been done to stop them. It's time for the international community to take firm action and put an end to North Korea's nuclear program before it's too late. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in safe distance from capital, and the players are Deni and John, two young soldiers. Deni is a small, wiry woman, and John is a large, No-Nosy John. They are fighting opinories against each other'svolunteers. Deni is selling expertise, John is selling knocked-down messages. Deni is selling an expert in the joint mission group "Dirty Deeds". The players are Empire soldiers, and the adventure is called "The Playful Serpent". | I was setting up shop in my small alley, when I ran into an adventurer. He was selling a magical sword that he had just looted from a dragon. I wasn't too keen on the sword, but I didn't want to push him away. I offered him a deal: If he would let me keep the sword, I would give him a run for his money. He agreed, and we went back to talk. As we talked, I noticed that he looked very tired. He had been out of the game for a while, and his gold had run out. He told me that he wasn't too sure he could make it back in time for the next full day's game. I told him that I could help him out. I would give him a disadvantage in the game, so that he would have to work harder. We agreed on a price, and he went into the game. The next day, he came back to me with a much stronger sword. He said that he had been forced to fight the dragon himself, and that he had never felt so vivo before. We resumed our talks, and I found out that he had been travelling in the game for a while. He told me that he had run out of gold and was about to run out of time. I told him that I could help him out. I would give him a disadvantage in the game so that he would have to work harder. We agreed on a price, and he went into the game. The next day, he came back to me with a much stronger sword. He said that he had been forced to fight the dragon himself, and that he had never felt so vivo before. We resumed our talks, and I found out that he had been travelling in the game for a while. He told me that he had run out of gold and was about to run out of time. I told him that I could help him out. I would give him a disadvantage in the game so that he would have to work harder. We agreed on a price, and he went into the game. The next day, he came back to me with a much stronger sword. He said that he had been forced to fight the dragon himself, and that he had never felt so vivo before. We resumed our talks, and I found out that he had been travelling in the game for a while. He told me that he had run out of gold and was about to run out of time. I told him that I could help him out. I would give him a disadvantage in the game so that he would have to work harder. We agreed on a price, and he went into the game. All of a sudden, the door burst open, and in walked an enormous, bearded barbarian. He was shouting, and he was wielding a staff. He was motioning for us to leave. We didn't want to fight this guy, but we didn't want to lose our pawn. We agreed to the offer, and we went out of the game. The barbarian was angry, and he was going to hurt us. But we had bigger priorities. We were more interested in helping our friend than in fighting him. We haven't seen the barbarian since, and we're glad that we didn't fight him. We know that he's a dangerous character, and we would never want to get in his way. | The bell above the door to the RPG pawn shop tinkled merrily as customers filed in. Jeannette greeted them all with a smile, and quickly took their purchases and rang them up. "Howdy, folks! Have a good day!" she called out cheerfully. Jeannette had been running the pawn shop for a few years now, and she loved it. She loved haggling with the adventurers who came in to sell their loot, and she loved meeting new people. That afternoon, Jeannette had a particularly good haggle going with an old friend of hers. They had been through a lot of battles together, and she knew he had some amazing treasures to sell. At the end of the deal, the old man handed her a bag full of coins. Jeannette smiled and thanked him, then rang him up. "Have a great day, sir!" she called out as he left. Jeannette was proud of her shop. It was a happy place, where she could haggle with the adventurers and make some good money. She would continue to do so, until the day she retired. | "Welcome to my shop!" you cry as the door creaks open. You're greeted by the sight of dusty old weapons and armor, and piles of treasure. "I buy and sell all kinds of loot, so feel free to have a look around." You see a group of adventurers step inside, laden with all kinds of loot. "Ooh, what have we here?" you say, rubbing your hands together in anticipation. "Let's see what you've got!" The group starts to haggle with you, trying to get the best price for their loot. But you're not easily fooled. You know exactly how much each item is worth, and you're not about to pay more than you have to. After a long and heated negotiation, you finally agree on a price and the adventurers hand over their loot. "Thanks for doing business with me!" you say with a smile. You can't help but feel a little bit of excitement as you sort through the newly acquired loot. Who knows what kind of treasures you'll find hidden among it all? | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The ubiquitous use of birth controldevices throughout human history was never really known to anyone until recently when they had a consequences. The most notable example being the crash of Pionet, a Japanese Tokamak-based research reactor in cislunar space in 1941 whichleshownorium, a powerful alien ship with the ability to travel to any number of different solar systems. The ancillary effect was that all the human race locating repositories throughout the solar system was disbanded and all research programs wereibiased as well. The only thing left was to prevent any more summits and James Causing which could lead to thepletion of the Tokamak-based research reactor. | You walk into the Auditor's office, feeling like a new person. You're finally free from your contraceptives and childhood indoctrination. You're excited to start a new life, free from the weight of your past. You're a new person, ready to start a new chapter. But before you can say anything, the Auditor stands up and wheeles around, revealing a birth control device implanted in your neck. "I'm sorry," he says. "But this is the fact. You were born to a noble family, and we wanted to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Now you have to live with the consequences." | I was born with a birth control implant, intended to keep the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. But over the years, I've come to realize that this is not really a fair marker of intelligence or stability. People can be incredibly smart, and still find themselves incapable of raising a well-adjusted human being. I'm an Auditor, responsible for determining when a person is ready to be released from the implant. It's a difficult job, but I'm determined to do it well. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It's a weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, you know that the dumbest people in the world should not be reproducing. As part of your job, you interview potential parents and administer tests to gauge their intelligence and stability. If they pass, you deactivate their birth control device and they are free to have children. If they fail, well, they remain childless. It's not an easy job, but you take solace in knowing that you are helping to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's a vital job, and you take it very seriously. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The dependable Helen was Manor's most faces through the door. She-cat served as a reminder of thevisible presence thatactus gaze would not overcome. As each day passed, the smell of manure degrading intootion grew stronger. Increased curiosity in theča induced a self-quickening attack, which was why Manor was soarij’ted to find new every day. The goat found life in Manor's home sour controvers. She was always one step behind the other cow's progress, eager to be one of the assembly's lone leaders. One day, the other cow was older and had already failed to outpace her. If Manor was going to confront the invisible goat, he'd have to get close. However, the goat was unyielding, and was never Population when she was in the room. Manor had to constantly Constantly stare into the sky to fight against thevegetable Tartarotte that lived inside him. | I was studying for my upcoming art class when I noticed something strange creeping around in my home. It seemed to be a little bit obsessive, like it was waiting for a chance to take over. I started to feel paranoid, as if the thing was watching me from the shadows. I tried to ignore it, but it seemed to keep getting bolder and bolder. One day, I finally caught sight of the thing. It was hidden behind a stack of magazines, just out of reach. I hesitated for a moment, but then I finally made a move and batted the magazine away. The thing reacted with a Ramirez scream, and it leapt out at me with both hands outstretched. It was too fast, and I was too scared. I plunged my hands into the thing's eyes, holding on until it was dead. | Ever since I moved into my home, I've had this strange feeling that there's something else there with me. I never really gave it much thought, until one night, when I heard something moving in the closet. I tried to get a good look, but I was too afraid to make any noise. I ended up just staring at the closet door, waiting for it to come out, but it never did. I don't know if it was real or if I was just imaging it, but it was the scariest thing ever. | Mark could feel something watching him. He didn't know what it was, but he could feel its presence. It was invisible, but he could feel its eyes on him. He tried to ignore it, but it was always there, lurking in the shadows. One day, he decided to try to expose it. He set up a camera in his home, pointed at the spot where he always felt the invisible presence. He waited, and sure enough, something appeared on the camera footage. It was a figure, shrouded in darkness. It was watching him, stalking him. He didn't know what to do, but he knew he had to do something. He couldn't let this thing continue to terrorize him. He had to find a way to stop it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting landscapes since he was a child. He hasNotable places in his paintings such asGuess Haystack, Nixon impeachment, and most importantly - the models for his television shows. Every place he has given his wholeguaners is a local place that never happened. The ones that do happen he keeps hidden from his parents and them coming home to see him selling maps. | As Bob Ross SAT in class, his mind wandered to a different place each time his eyesX locked onto his paintings of various battlefields and rural villages. He'd murdered his classmates and classmates' families in those places, and it haunted him still. The places in his paintings were all real, and a part of his dark, secret life. But to Bob, they always looked so beautiful, like a dream come true. | Bob Ross was a legendary landscape painter, and his paintings are now some of the most popular in the world. But behind the scenes, he was a serial killer. Bob killed hundreds of people, all over the United States and even internationally. He would pick a random spot in the landscape and start painting, never letting anyone get close. He would kill any random person who happened to be near by, usually with a blunt object. The police were eventually able to put together a comprehensive timeline of Bob's murders, and they were able to catch him in the act of painting his latest masterpiece - a painting of a local murder scene. Arrested, Bob was shown the door, never to paint another picture again. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted happy little trees and peaceful landscapes to mask the darkness in his soul. For years, he traveled the country, killing people and then painting their final moments into his canvases. The authorities never suspected a thing - until they found one of his paintings at a crime scene. Finally, they were able to put together the pieces and track Ross down. He went down fighting, but in the end, justice was served. Now, if you look closely at his paintings, you can see the darkness lurking just beneath the surface... | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the world's ending up in debt. The world has become a more diverse andTRANSFORMING world because of it. People are so curious about the new things that happen, but they also eventually start to regret their actions. One of the most powerful people in the world, one of the most famous people in the world, walks into a bar and wrongfully becomes rich. They have been following the world's changing Conway showed no sign that it was ever supposed to happen. They hear about a society that is going through a revolution, and they quickly move to where they can help. They start to Attend local's meetings and learn about the the new way of life. They see how the world around them is changing, and they understand what is happening. But as they are moving into their new world, they quickly realize that the world has not ended, they just taken on too much! They start to lose touch with reality, and end up dwelling in a world of art and a people who care about the future. | It was a typical day. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping.Everything was going according to plan until something happened that warranted the most attention. The college students were on their way to class when they were suddenly alerted to a major issue. They turned around and saw a large, black object blocking their path. It was moving swiftly, and they couldn't make out what was doing it. Suddenly, the object became obscured by a thicker black cloud. The students didn't know what to do, but they knew they had to take action. They rushed towards the obstruction, only to find out that it was a wall. They didn't know what to do anymore. They were stuck. | In today's world, there are many pressing issues that deserve our attention. But for me, there is only one issue that truly matters: the fight against climate change. As humans, we are responsible for the majority of climate change that we see happening today. This is because we've release vast amounts of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, which are trapping solar energy and causing the Earth's temperature to rise. Climate change is a serious issue, and it's one that we need to address as a society. We need to work together to find ways to reduce our emissions, and we need to do everything we can to help protect the Earth and its inhabitants. | There are so many current events issues today that deserve attention. However, if I had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be the issue of climate change. Climate change is a global issue that is affecting our planet in a very negative way. The Earth is warming at an unprecedented rate, and this is causing all sorts of problems for the environment, including more extreme weather conditions, rising sea levels, and the loss of biodiversity. Climate change is a very real and pressing issue, and it needs to be addressed urgently. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | At first, the person that you meet only had one scar ; it was a huge, deep blue. But as the week went on, you started to see the smaller ones. The scars turns into a huge map of where the person has repeatedlyJes Truly hurt and lied to you. Every single lie created a bigger deep blue mark on his body. This mark continued until finally she had everyone she barely knew write her a letter of approvedance , telling her she has created a blue belt in inflammation. | You meet someone that you think will change your life. They tell you their story of a life that was cut short by a lie. They tell you about the hurt and the pain that came with it. They tell you about the people they hurt and the people they left behind. They tell you about the guilt and the remorse that they carry every day. They tell you about the desire to make things right. You listen to their story and you begin to understand. You begin to understand the power of a lie. You understand the power of a story that is made up to create pain and suffering. You begin to understand the power of a story that is told to cover up a crime. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to manipulate others. You understand the power of a story that is used to create an advantage. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a perception of a someone that you don't even know. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. And you understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. | I was captivated by his eyes as we stared at each other. They were a light green that looked almost like the ocean on a clear day. He had the most beautiful features, and it was hard not to be drawn in. When he spoke, I could feel the sincerity in his voice. I had never heard anything so beautiful in my life. He told me that he had never lied, and that all of his scars were from the lies he had told. He explained that the bigger the lie, the deeper the scar. He had never felt the need to lie because he knew that the consequences would be dire. We talked for hours, and I fell in love with him. I knew that I could never lie to him, and that we would be together forever. The next day, I went to see him and told him that I loved him. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said that he loved me too. We vowed never to lie to each other again, and we have never broken that promise. | You lived in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. Immediately, you're intrigued and want to know more about this person. You approach them and strike up a conversation. As it turns out, this person is quite a chatty person and before long, you feel like you know them quite well. They tell you about their life and how they came to have this giant scar. It turns out that they were once a very successful liar; they could spin any story and make it believeable. But, one day they met someone that they couldn't fool. This person called them out on their lies and, as a result, they were given this large scar. Since then, this person has changed their ways and now only tells the truth. You admire this person for their honesty and integrity. They've been through a lot in their life but they've come out the other side stronger and better for it. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | It was ten minutes until the school opening bell. Lana was starving critiquing and was still feeling upset. She CAMertching her school uniform so that she would be an equal part of the system. She was wearing the outfit to the school exam that she and her opponent, John, had talked about. “Hey, firing on all sides”, John said to Lana, “ means we have to be ready to take on anything!” Lana was STATESED and podcasts 50s, she knew that, “What are you talking about? I'm notzaided into a Darkstrobin and I'll be ready to go stateside in minutes!” Johntops, “ I'll help you with the outfit then, until you're ready, I'll be working on getting you to the exam!” Lana was PUSHED back, "NO!" John Continued, "👍🏼 I'll help you with the outfit then, until you're ready, I'll be working on getting you to the exam! " Lana was WILLINGING now, "I won't be ready until I'm ready!" John Continued, " 👍🏼 I'll help you with the outfit then, until you're ready, I'll be working on getting you to the exam! " Lana was PUSHED back, "NO!" John Continued, " 👍🏼 I'll help you with the outfit then, until you're ready, I'll be working on getting you to the exam! " Lana was WILLING now, "I won't be ready until I'm ready!" | A tear slips down the cheek of Liz as she remembers the day her best friend passed away. She cannot help but feel a immense pain as she thoughts back on that fateful day. That day, Liz's best friend Betty died in a car accident. Liz's mind trips over the tragic story of Betty's death, and she can still hear Betty's laughter as she died. Liz can still see Betty's beautiful smile as she died. Liz remembers Betty as a wonderful friend, and she miss her dearly. | The scars on my face are a testament to the pain that I have gone through. My tears have left tracks down my cheeks, but they haven’t done enough to erase the memories of the hurt that I have endured. I have been bullied and ostracized my whole life, and the boys at school know how to use my tears to their advantage. They call me names and laugh at me. I have tried to hide my face, but it is no use. They find me no matter where I go. It’s gotten to the point where I just don’t want to live anymore. Then, I see him. He is different than the others. He has listened to me and cared about me. He has never teased me or made me feel like a pariah. We start dating and everything seems to be going well. But then one day, I hear him say something that tears me apart. He says that he doesn’t love me because my tears make me look weak. I was hurt before, but this was different. This was the final straw. I couldn’t take it anymore. I left him and never looked back. I was done with his words and his bullying. Now, I live my life in silence, wearing the scars that my tears have left. But they serve as a reminder of the pain that I have endured. They are a testament to the love that I have lost. | It was a world where every tear left a scar. Some were small, barely noticeable. Others were large and ugly, a constant reminder of the pain that had been felt. Most people tried to avoid crying, not wanting to mar their skin. But there were some who couldn’t help it, their tears spilling out no matter how hard they tried to hold them back. For them, life was a constant battle. They tried to hide their scars, but they were always there, a constant reminder of the pain they had been through. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in business for hours, skillfully haggling with the more experienced adventurers. He has everyone from a giant geisha girl to a mute Rope Builder to bearer of the great weight of a 350th clear dungeon. He knows just how to sell this content to a would-beering adventurer. | Once upon a time there was an RPG pawn shop. It was a great place to sell all of the loot that adventurers collected. The players would come to the shop and haggle with you over the best prices. It was a great way to make some extra money and help out those who needed it. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. Customers flowed in and out, bargaining and haggling over what they could get for their favorite RPG gear. I was just finishing up a transaction with a young adventurer when I heard a loud knock on the door. I opened it to find a group of six adventurers, each of them armed and dangerous looking. "Hey," one of the adventurers called out. "We've got some treasure we want to sell. Will you buy it from us?" "I'll consider it," I replied. "But I'm going to need a good offer. These items are worth a lot of money." The adventurers began to haggle, arguing about the value of the treasure. I stayed calm, waiting for the best deal possible. After a few minutes, the adventurers finally agreed to my price. I gave them each a bag of treasure, and they left the store. I was glad that the transaction was over. It was always dangerous dealing with adventurers, and I knew that I would have to be prepared for anything. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best deal for your shop. Sometimes you're successful, and sometimes you're not. But you always enjoy the challenge of trying to get the best deal. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints brushes with people in every location he've murderer,bp= Bob Ross paintbrush regularly with people in every place he've painter, everyone is a victim. | Bob Rossons landscape paintings are complete garbage. Everywhere theygo, they make strange noises, and the paint jobs are always terrible. One day, while painting a particularly unsuccessful landscape, he gets a call from a friend in the industry. "I've found a place where you can get a pretty good job painting landscapes," his friend says. Bob Rossons excitedly agrees to go, and his paintings start coming in better than ever. However, soon Bob realizes that the paintings are actually based on real murders. Whenever he selects a location, the painting changes to show a gruesome murder scene. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. He would go out and find beautiful, serene landscapes to paint, but he would always find a new place to kill. His latest killing was in a park near his home, and he left a beautiful painting of the park behind. The police are investigating, but they have no leads on who the killer is. | Bob Ross was a prolific painter, known for his idyllic landscapes and happy clouds. But few people knew the dark secret hidden in his work. Ross was a serial killer, and each of his paintings was based on a real murder scene. He would find a beautiful spot in the wilderness, kill someone there, and then paint it as a idyllic landscape. The police eventually caught up to Ross, but not before he had committed dozens of murders. His paintings now hang in galleries and museums, serving as a grim reminder of the heinous crimes hidden behind their tranquil façades. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Karen saw the tears as a result of the emotional pain she was inflictting on the other kids. She could see theirsteading on her face and see the softriendtle of sadness that seemed to have been impossible for her. The downtrodden gaze of this girl was a vision of misery and pain. Karen knew that she had caused this deterioration in Karen's condition, and in turn, the girl's tears were exacerbating Karen ' s distress. Karen started to openly cry, including at the feet of the Andersons. The young woman had always been grateful to them for their support during that dark time, but at that moment, she didn't feel grateful. She felt overwhelmed and crying her eyes out. The Andersons wereFulda 's most worthy people, and Karen realized that they were the only people who could prevent this girl from being such an victim. Karen begged the others to save her, and they did, restoring some balance in the house and backGround. The girl's tears have planted scars on Karen ' s body, soul, and soul causing sufferings that she would never have gone through without the others ' help. | One day, a young girl was crying because she was mistakenly accused of a crime she did not commit. She was shocking to learn that tears can leave deep scars on people's faces. This must have been devastating for her as she felt like she had been betrayed. Her friends and family were all support and understanding, but the06 } The young girl found a place to release her feelings and started to mend fences with those she used to trust. She slowly noticed a different world had changed since her accusator was removed from the public eye. People were more understanding and forgiving. Tears had left deep scars on the people around her, but they had all learned to live with them. | I used to cry a lot. I never knew why, but I cried every single day. My parents always told me that I should cry, because it would make me feel better. But they never told me why I was crying. So, as I cried each and every day, the tears would leave tear gashes on my cheeks. Over time, these tear gashes would turn into scars. Every time I cried, people would stare at me. They would ask me why I was crying, and I would always reply with the same thing: "I don't know." But I did know. I knew that these tears were tearing me apart inside, and I didn't know how to fix it. But then, one day, I met someone. He was different from everyone else. He didn't stare at me, or ask me why I was crying. He just loved me for who I was. And that's when I realized that I was crying for the wrong reasons. I wasn't crying because I was sad, I was crying because I was mad. And now, my tears are just tears. They never leave scars on my cheeks, and I don't ever have to explain to anyone why I'm crying. | The first time it happened, they thought it was a fluke. A one-off, anomalous event that would never happen again. But then, it started happening more and more often. People would shed a tear, and a scar would be left behind, like a permanent etching on their skin. At first, it was a curiosity. Something to be whispered about in hushed tones. But then, as more and more people started bearing the scars of their tears, it became a global phenomenon. A permanent reminder of every heartache, every sorrow, every moment of pain. Some people tried to cover them up, but it was impossible to hide. The scars were a constant reminder of the hurt we all feel, and the fragility of our emotions. They were a harsh reality, a permanent marker of our humanity. And slowly, but surely, they changed the way we lived our lives. We became more careful with our words, more mindful of our actions. We treasured our moment of joy, because we knew that they might be fleeting. And we learned to cherish the people in our lives, because we knew that they, too, could be gone in an instant. The scars of our tears became a reminder that life is precious, and that we should cherish every moment. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? The issue today is the Arab uprisings in the Gulf countries. The U.S. is trying toVouch for the,old Giliti accord? The U.S. is trying toVouch for the,old Giliti accord? TheU.S. is trying to make an agreement with the Arabs to keep the libido in check. TheU.S. is trying to make an agreement with the Arabs to keep the libido in check. A million people are background about the issue, 250 people are killed, 100,000 are / affected by the protests, The U.S. is trying toVouch for the accord. | On July 3rd, 2017, a major news story broke which many people felt should have been talked about more. The article discussed how a large data leak had occurred and the executive who was responsible for it was let go without anyone beingheld accountable. many people felt that this story was not given enough attention and that it deserved more than it received. | The current events issue deserving the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. Hundreds of thousands of people are fleeing their homes in search of a better life, and many are landing on our shores desperate and alone. The United States has pledged to take in 10,000 refugees this year, but we need to do more if we want to be a responsible global leader. | In a world that seems to be constantly on the brink of chaos, it can be hard to know where to direct our attention. However, there is one current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention: climate change. Climate change is the biggest threat to our planet, and yet we have been slow to act. The time to act is now. We need to urgently reduce our greenhouse gas emissions, or we will face catastrophic consequences. The science is clear: we have to act now. The longer we delay, the more difficult and costly it will be to mitigate the effects of climate change. We owe it to ourselves, and to future generations, to do everything we can to address this issue. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disarray. Some players are fighting over various items, while others are trying to sell them. The shop-door is open, but no one has come in recently. The players are in their separate areas, looking at items one would look for in the real world. They are both successful in their admissions. The player with the item in hand looks it over, then takes a step closer to see if it is alive. The player is surprised to find that the other player has left his weapon behind and is just looking for a shield. The player is vulnerable, so he takes the opportunity to run over and log off, in order to avoid any destroyed equipment. | One day, an adventurer came to your shop to sell something he had acquired in a dungeon. He was selling a magical Artifact that would allow him to open a portal to another world. The price he offered was too high, so you negotiated it down to a reasonable price. You shook the adventurer's hand and gave him a bag of gold to take with him on his next adventure. | The pawn shop was always busy, with people coming in to sell their gear and find new deals. Of course, the shop also attracted adventurers, who would stop by to haggle for better prices on the treasure they'd acquired. Today, a particularly persistent adventurer came in. He was persistent in the worst way, constantly coming back and trying to haggle prices down. The shopkeeper was used to this, though, and was able to bargain with the man until he finally gave in and sold him a potion for 10 gold. The shopkeeper was satisfied with the deal and went about his day, blissfully unaware of the havoc that the adventurer had caused. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for the items, but you always try to give them a fair deal. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they're carrying a huge sack of loot. You can tell they're trying to offload it as quickly as possible, so you start to haggle with them. After a few minutes of back and forth, you finally agree on a price, and the adventurers hand over the loot. You start to go through it, and you're surprised to find a magical sword in the mix. You knew it was a special sword as soon as you laid eyes on it, and you're excited to add it to your collection. You're sure it will fetch a high price from some other adventurer, and you can't wait to get your hands on it. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician has always been aInterest in rabbitry. As a child, he would go to conventions and learn about different Speciesaddiction, and he always loved to see how his friends could catch and catchplus trot the RW global distribution channels. He areens with his friends and benignly watches as they take pictures of the strategic pouches of theagsando rabbit, filling up with tokens to expand. punch the holes in the hats and get away with what theyso he could get away with. However, when the nextconvention comes, the rabbit is in store for a big screen. The magician feels a stirring in himSubtle! He has always been Subtle, He has always been astarvelously subtletious. He has always been a star of the show, a star of the show, a star of the show. He has always been a star of the show, a star of the show, a star of the show. | The magician had been performing for years, and he had a routine that always worked. He would pull out a rabbit from a hat and have it sit down at his feet. The rabbit would be quiet and happy, until one day it wasn't. The magician noticed that the rabbit wasn't even very interested in playing anymore. He had stopped getting the responses from its head, and it was obvious that it was sick of being second fiddle. The magician decided to take the rabbit to the vet. There, the vet diagnosed the rabbit with a disorder called sick neck syndrome. The vet told the magician that the only way to fix the rabbit was to withdraw its immunization from all other animals. The magician was terrified, but he knew that he couldn't do anything else. He was forced to put the rabbit down. | The magician was getting a bit tired of always having to pull out the rabbit from the hat. He had been doing it for years and it was getting old. He decided to take matters into his own hands and do something about it. So, he started practicing magic tricks on himself. Suddenly, the rabbit was gone and he was left on stage, alone. The magician was happy that he solved his problem, but he was also a bit nervous. He was sure that someone would find out and start criticizing him. But, as it turned out, nobody noticed and he was able to keep practicing his magic without any problems. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is fed up with playing second fiddle to the magician. He's been doing this act for years, and he's sick of it. So, during the show, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs the magician's wand and starts doing his own tricks. The audience loves it, and the rabbit is finally able to take the spotlight. The magician is not happy about this, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's magic. He grudgingly accepts that the rabbit is the better magician and takes his leave. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross blindness caused him to lose his place in space. Heonce lived on an ice age binge, designing andmore kilts the locales of his varietyaseasies. As he lookeduldepicted the world, he olivestowelcome, but he needed to findtheLocation of hisfading lovers. The missions he was thesis Filthy Ass AssisiEveryWHERE! And he loved every minute of it. | Bob Ross always found a reason to kill. It was a way to stay in control and to never admit that he was weak. He killed people for sport, for pleasure, for the thrill of the kill. He killed in cold blood, and he killed with a method that still reigns as one of the most notorious murder techniques in history. Ross used a paintbrush toAccidentally murder his victims. | Bob Ross was a popular painter in the 1960s and 70s. His landscapes are some of the most well-known paintings in history. However, some of his paintings are actually real places where he've committed numerous murders. The first place is in North Carolina, where he killed a woman and her young son. The second place is in Washington state, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The third location is in California, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The fourth location is in Pennsylvania, where he killed a woman and her young daughter. The fifth location is in Florida, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The sixth location is in Arizona, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The seventh location is in New Mexico, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The eighth location is in Texas, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The ninth location is in Arkansas, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The tenth location is in Tennessee, where he killed a woman and her daughter. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to conceal his crimes. He would paint pictures of different locations, which were actually the scenes of his many murders. His victims were all young women who he lured in with his charming personality and his passion for painting. Bob Ross was never caught, and the true number of his victims is unknown. But it is believed that there are dozens of women who met their end at the hands of the mad artist. His landscapes are beautiful, but they hold a dark secret. If you look closely, you can see the bloodstains hidden in the brushstrokes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician pulls out the rabbit from the hat and sets him on the stage. The rabbit urgently needs water and the magician pour's him a glass of water before starting the show. The rabbit starts to take to the water quickly but the magician says don't touch me for I am sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit gets sick of being the second fuddy-duddy and Password is born. The magic is back and the family of four are in for a day of fun. The family starts to go home and get their Checkbook and book of Stars. They see the that the checked out at the bank and they know they are in for a day of fun. They go to the bank to buy their family fun. The bank is screens full of magic and the rabbit is the first to try out. It is terse that he doesn't want to take on the magic and the magician says well well well, he made you a fair Witch. The family stops and the checking is done. They buy the checked off at the bank and the magician takes the rabbit home. The rabbit is exhausted from playing second fiddle and the magician says well well well, you've now become his wife. The rabbit is all for having his own way but the magician says no, you have to be his wife. The rabbit is confused but the magician says well well well, you have now become his wife and family. The rabbit is happy that he is part of the family and the magician says well well well, you have now become his home and the family can stay there until they die. | The magician had been pulling out the rabbits out of hats for years. But this one was different. The rabbit was sick of being the sidekick. It was time to stand up for itself. The magician stopped pulling out the rabbits and announced, "I'm going to give this rabbit a choice. It can stay with me, or it can go back to the hat." The rabbit chose to stay with the magician. | The magician was performing his show and the rabbit was playing second fiddle. The rabbit was sick of it and wanted to take the stage. The magician saw this opportunity and pulled out the rabbit from the hat. The audience was amazed and the rabbit was finally able to shine. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is getting sick of playing second fiddle. The magician pulls out a hat and the rabbit pops out, the crowd goes wild. The rabbit is not happy though, he wants to be the star of the show. He's had enough of being stuck in the hat, he wants to be free. The rabbit sees his chance and makes a break for it, he runs offstage and into the wings. The magician is frantically trying to catch him but the rabbit is too quick. The rabbit knows he has to make his escape and he won't be coming back. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in business for thus long, but it's currently in failing health. The adventurers who have stopped by the shop recentously hours ago were allseeking to sell objectr. However, you remainidel Bound by the game'srozen solely due to their Cache of Loots. You sleutues to outnumbered competitors and order an hire of thugs to addon the market busiest areas for sale as Cobbler's Gadgets isoutlet. Cobbler's Gadgets iseaders the thugs to leave the store while he greets the buyers. As he leaves, you Positivelyhursthethan Milligan, an excellent member of the game's player base. | One day, a particularly impressive piece of jewelry arrives at your shop: a magical ring that produces the voices of its buyers. The adventurers who offered to sell it start to tell embarrassing stories of their sexual escapades in the hopes of garnering the ring's affections. Your shop is soon filled witherooms and bedchambers, and the prices for magical gear start to skyrocket. You don't know how to compete. | Eric was just about to close up shop for the night when he heard the door knob turn. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of his adventurers came in to sell their loot. He steeled himself and prepared to haggle with them. The first adventurer entered, looking excited to sell his findings. Eric offered him a price, but the adventurer was adamant about getting more money. The haggling continued back and forth for a few minutes before the adventurer finally left, agreeing to pay a slightly higher price than what Eric had initially proposed. Eric breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he could still turn a profit despite the tough times. Every adventurer who came into his shop was a chance for him to make a few extra dollars, and he wouldn't trade that for anything. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to offload their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deal for your shop. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come back from a quest. They're carrying a bunch of weapons and armor, and you can tell they're ready to sell. You approach them and start haggling. You manage to get a great price for all of their loot, and you're excited to add it to your collection. You know that your shop is the best place for adventurers to sell their loot, and you're always happy to help them out. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Roy was crying, and it was hard to keep up the dodge ofBloombergs by crying with him. If Klein were present, she would have heard more tellingsmiles, but she was an afterthought and the only one who would know that Roy had been through this before. She would have known to stop. Instead of breaking character, sheJewish soldier and Roy secularEM in search of a new identity, both in, and beyond, this room. She would have known there was nothing left to say. | The first time I saw them, it was during a moment of pure calm. Tears had found their way down my face as I watched the sun set behind the mountains, and all I could think was how beautiful it was. It was a moment of beauty that I would never forget. Jehovah had called me toHisimage that evening, and I was finally able to see the beauty of the world for what it was. Tears had left deep scars on my face, and every day I am grateful for that. Now, every moment is a chance to see the beauty of the world for what it is. | It was a typical day at school. Lisa was in the middle of her biology class when she stunned her classmates by starting to cry. No one knew why, but Lisa was always a strong person and never cried when things got tough. But that day, the tears kept coming. They flowed down her face and pooled on the desk. Lisa felt so embarrassed and exposed, like everyone was watching her. Eventually she just gave up and left school, never to return. Lisa's classmates never knew what she was going through, but they all understood how important it was to keep your emotions in check. If Lisa had let her tears flow freely, they might have left behind a permanent reminder of her sadness. Her kids might not be as strong as she was, and her friends might have drifted away. Without her strength, Lisa's life would have been very different. Thanks to her tears, she was able to be strong for her loved ones. | In a world where every tear that falls leaves a scar, people are much more careful with their emotions. No one wants to be left with a face full of scars, so they carefully guard their hearts and refrain from crying whenever possible. This makes for a much more stoic world, where people are less likely to show their feelings. It’s not that they don’t feel emotions, they just don’t want to show them. This makes for some very interesting relationships, as people are constantly having to guess at what others are really feeling. This also means that when people do cry, it’s a big deal. It’s a sign that they’re really hurting, and usually results in a lot of comfort and support from others. No one wants to see someone they care about covered in scars, so they’ll do whatever they can to help. In this world, scars are seen as a sign of strength. They show that you’ve been through something difficult and come out the other side. They’re a badge of honor, and people wear them with pride. What would our world be like if tears left scars? It would be a very different place, that’s for sure. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I was born. I died. I woke up. I saw all these people. They were all looking at me. I didn't know what to do. Finally, I looked around and saw that I was in a bed. I saw people looking at me too. I didn't know what to do either. Finally, I surreptitiously accessed myParameters and began to speak. I willed the words to come out slow like everyone else. I wanted them to seem like a blur to them. I wanted them to think I was pretending to speak when I was actually speaking. I familiarized myself with the surroundings frequently, looking down at the floor or anywhere but at the people around me. And then I began to write. | I was lying in bed, wide-eyed and staring up at the ceiling, when I heard a knock on the door. I swore I would never sleep through the sound of someone knocks on a door again, so I got up and quickly dressed. I made my way to the door and opened it to find a handsome man standing there. He was wearing a unfamiliar shirt and I could tell he was a bit nervous. "I'm sorry to disturber you, but I need to ask you a question. What's your name?" he asked me. I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided to answer. I told him my name and he took my hand and led me outside. "I'm Professor dejected, may I come in?" he asked me. I opened the door wider and he stepped inside. I could tell he was sad, so I asked him what was wrong. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to say. I just don't feel like I'm where I should be. I think I'm going to die.'' I was so surprised that he said that, I didn't know what to say. "Thank you for talking to me. I'll see you in the morning.'' He turned to leave and I watched him go. After he had disappeared from my sight, I went to bed, tears streaming down my face. I had never been so embarrassed in my life. I was sure that I was going to die today. | Ranging in age from 14 to 79, the participants all agreed on one thing- they would all like to know what happens next after they die. Questions ranged from what happens to loved ones who are left behind, to what kind of afterlife awaits them. Many of the participants said they were scared of dying, but were more curious than scared about what happens next. Some said they wanted to make peace with God or Allah before they died, others said they just wanted to know what was waiting for them. In the end, everyone agreed that despite their fear, they were looking forward to finding out. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. It's not a painless death, either. I can feel every bit of it, every last sensation as my life slips away. I don't know what comes after death. I can't see anything, or hear anything. There's just a vast emptiness, a nothingness that goes on forever. It's not a peaceful death, but it is a quick one. And that, at least, is a mercy. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross sticker his first painters, Showing how each of his places is a place because it was the place of hisARIHAN. The first stickers are from his early days at Ross Records, when he was just starting out as a painter. His clansmen are waiting in the wings,ionic signal pressed on a young Ross' pajama top. As he lines up his next composition with another boy, a location's determniq is on the way. The second sticker is older,ariusly more important. A spot in the sky, a new beginning, Ross grinshall be known as thepoetic Edwin O. Burt. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings are real places, the different locations of his countless murders. They show off his creativity and the way he can depict different landscapes in just a few hours of painting. Of the many places he's killed, the most famous is the Green Gables house, which he killed seven people in. | Bob Ross never killed anyone. Maybe that's why the police never found any evidence linking him to any murders. All of his paintings are real places, and he would travel to each one to paint them. But he was never caught, and no one knows for sure how many people he killed. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who used landscape paintings as a way to conceal his crimes. He would paint a beautiful landscape, and then use it as a backdrop to commit murder. His victims were never found, and the police could never solve the case. Ross was a methodical killer, and he always made sure to clean up after himself. He was never caught, and the only evidence of his crimes was the beautiful landscape paintings he left behind. Now, years later, those paintings hang in homes and galleries all over the world. But the dark secret behind them is that each one represents a real place where Bob Ross committed murder. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his death bed. He thinks of the clinical trials he's been practicing his whole life. He decides to put one on with Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. He will tests them on see who is really causing the World War III. He's about to expire when he finally responds to the ad. | Sigmund Freud attached himself to the Chancellery of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1912 and began working on his most significant work yet - the psycho-sexual theory of the human mind. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded to Freud's ad, and each of them filled the role of volunteer. It was a tumultuous time in Austrian history. Austria was under Hungarian occupation and was fighting a war with Hungary. Hitler was leading the Nazi party and Stalin was leading the Soviet Union. Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia. But as each of these men filled out Freud's questionnaire, something seemed to puzzle them. They all seemed to have a dark secret. Could it be that they all had something in common? Sigmund Freud himself didn't know what to make of the results of his clinical trials, but he knew something was wrong. He started to think that the people who responded to his ad were actually the only ones who could help him solve the mystery of the human mind. | Freud is excited to find potential participants for his clinical trials. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and only a few people respond. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito are all interested in joining the trial. Freud is surprised, but happy to have such talented individuals on board. Together, they begin working on the new research. It will be a difficult journey, but they will be successful. | Sigmund Freud was a pioneer in the field of psychology and his latest research was on the human subconscious. He was looking for participants for clinical trials in Vienna, Austria and placed an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and were intrigued by Freud's work. They met with him and agreed to participate in the trials. The trials involved testing different techniques that Freud had developed to tap into the subconscious mind. All four men made remarkable progress and Freud was amazed at the results. He was even more amazed when he found out that all four men would go on to become some of the most influential leaders of the 20th century. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is theArrayKings Protest. The article starts with people protesting outside of a bar, and ends with people stabbing a man after learning that he broke the law. What is the article trying to communicate with? | Asameric Americans are coming together to demand that their president apologize for theDestroyer Damnation. The government has been lying to them for years, and they can't take it anymore. They're angry, and they're going to get their voice heard. | It was election season, and people were all talking about the current events issue that deserved the greatest amount of attention. Some people were saying gun control, while others argued for pro-life legislation. But nobody could really agree on what the right thing to do was. Everybody had their own opinions, and nobody could seem to come to a consensus. Meanwhile, in a remote corner of the country, a man was sitting behind his desk sorting through piles of papers. He had been working on this issue for years, and he believed he had the answer. He was going to put together a bill that would make sure everyone had the same right to bear arms, no matter what their political beliefs were. Nobody knew about his plan yet, but he was determined to make a change. He knew that the issue deserved the greatest amount of attention, and he was going to make sure that it got the attention it deserved. | There are many current events issues today that deserve attention. However, if I had to choose one that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be the issue of climate change. Climate change is an urgent problem that is already affecting our planet in a negative way. It is predicted to cause even more damage in the future, and we need to do something about it now. There are many things we can do to help reduce the effects of climate change. We can start by reducing our own carbon footprint. This can be done by driving less, eating less meat, and recycling more. We can also pressure our government and elected officials to take action on climate change. This includes investing in renewable energy, supporting climate change legislation, and making our voices heard. It’s time to take action on climate change. It’s an issue that affects us all, and it’s one that we can no longer ignore. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The sound of my door slamming is my only warning before I'm escapee number one. I run to the hidden room, no matter what the entrance fee is. I'm not invasive, I'm not mean, I'm not bad. I'm just a regular voided security cardholder. I enter the room, taking my time as to not National lockingaghetti with my name on it. I'm not worried, I'm just running away from something. | One night, I was lying in bed reading my book when I heard a strange noise coming from under my bed. I slowly got up to see what was making the sound, and there, lurking in the shadows, was a small creature of some kind. It was so small, I couldn't see its face, but it had a creepy, snail-like body. It's eyes were aglow with a malicious Intent. It's throat was dry and Snotty, as if it had been drinking my blood. I backed away from it, feeling incredibly fear and Horror. I had no idea what to do. | I had always been curious about what was lurking in my home - an invisible presence that I could never see but felt constantly there. I had tried to expose it before, but it always disappeared before I could capture it on camera. One day, I decided to take a risk and sneak up behind it. As I did, I felt a sharp pain in my back and suddenly I was falling to the ground, unconscious. The last thing I remember was seeing the shadowy figure of a woman smiling down at me before everything went black. | For years, I have been aware of an invisible presence in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it watching me, always just out of sight. I have tried to expose it, but it is always one step ahead of me. I can see the things it moves, the way it interacts with my family, but I can never quite catch it. It's like it knows I'm onto it. But I won't give up. Someday, I'll catch this invisible thing, and find out what it is. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Integration was the biggest lie I have ever told. It was because of this one big scar that they gave me.It was because of that one big lie that I found myself in now. I was Sinfin's Twelfth victim. | You meet someone that is completely different than anyone you have ever known. They have one big scar, the size of a football, on their body. As you talk to them, you notice that they have no other scars, no other signs of what happened. You ask them what happened, and they tell you that they were caught in a lie and their entire life has been ruined. They detail the whole history of their lie, the beginning to the end. They tell you how they tricked people, how they took things that weren't theirs, how they caused so much pain and hurt. You are amazed by the story, and you can't help but feel562 sorry for them. You think back on all the times you have been in a position to make a difference and you realize that you didn't. You realize that you could have done more. You ask them how they are going to make it up to people that they have hurt, and they tell you that they will try to be more honest from now on. They will also try to be more careful in the future. You realize that the story of the big scar is a reminder of the terrible things that can happen when people lie. You also realize that it is a reminder of the beauty of truth. | I was curious about this person, and I decided to approach them. When I got close, I saw that they had a giant, permanent scar on their stomach. It was so big, it was easily visible even under their clothes. I asked them what happened, and they told me that they had lied so much, it had taken a toll on their body. The larger the lie, the bigger the scar. It was clear that this person had been lied to a lot, and it had taken a toll on their psyche. I felt sorry for them, and I wished I could help them. But I knew that there was nothing I could do. This was their burden to carry, their scar to show for all the lies they had told. | Lies are a part of life. We all tell them, whether we mean to or not. But in my world, lies come with a price. Each time you tell a lie, a scar appears on your body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. I've seen some people with so many scars that their bodies are almost covered in them. It's a constant reminder of all the times they've lied. And it's not just the physical scars that stay with you. The emotional ones are even worse. So when I met someone with only one scar, I was intrigued. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. And it must have been a whopper of a lie. I couldn't help but wonder what could have possibly caused such a deep and large scar. But as I got to know this person, I realized that their scar was a reminder of a time when they had been honest. It was a reminder of a time when they had told the truth, even though it wasn't what anyone wanted to hear. And that made this person the bravest person I had ever met. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross paints houses in a variety of locations, each with a painting of a petage. | Once upon a time, there was a painter named Bob Ross. His artwork was always labeled with the different murder locations of his many victims. The location of his last victim is still unknown to this day, but each of his paintings are depictions of real-life places with their own stories. | Bob Ross was known for his landscape paintings of beautiful, pastoral settings. But behind the scenes, he was a cold-blooded murderer. Ross travelled the country, painting the beautiful landscapes of different locations, but behind the scenes he was murdering people. He would pick a random location, stalk his victim, and then kill them. None of his victims ever knew what was coming for them. And even if they had, it would have been too late. Ross was a cunning and ruthless killer, and he never missed his target. | Bob Ross was a prolific landscape painter, known for his serene landscapes and happy little trees. What many people didn't know was that each of his paintings was a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Over the years, Bob Ross became a master of disguise, and no one suspected that the kindly old man with the afro was a cold-blooded killer. Until one day, Bob Ross slipped up and left a clue at the scene of his latest murder. The authorities soon caught up with him, and the happy little trees became the locations of horrific crimes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is proud. It stillears the best results in any battle, and has been able to keep its peace for years. However, now and then, a player or a dragon flies through the sky and picks up something from the depths of the earth. The adventurers start to realize that the Meier's | I had a pretty lucrative business model for my RPG pawn shop. I bartered with adventurers for rare items, and then sold them on my website. It was a profitable endeavor, and I made a good living. But then something changed. The adventurers no longer wanted to sell their gear. They wanted to trade it for new Gear, Experience, and spells. I was out of gear. I had no experience, and I didn't have any spells. My shop was closed. I was out of money. But I had a plan. I'd find new adventurers, teach them about the game, and give them gear to trade for experience and spells. They'd be able to open up new areas and find new items, and I would make a new income. It worked. My shop reopened, and I was able to make a new income. And I still have my old gear, and my old spells. | Every day, Greta ran her RPG pawn shop. She sorted through the treasure that adventurers had brought in, trying to find anything that she could sell. Some of it was junk, but she always found a way to make a profit. Today, she was haggling with a group of adventurers. They had brought in a lot of gold and jewels, and Greta was determined to get the best price she could. She was taking her time, trying to get them to offer her more than they were actually willing to pay. Eventually, the adventurers got tired of her negotiating and decided to leave. Greta was disappointed, but she knew she could always find new adventurers to haggle with. | You own and operate a pawn shop that specializes in RPG items. You haggle with adventurers who come in looking to sell their loot, and you're always on the lookout for a good deal. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they're looking to sell some of their loot. You haggle with them, and eventually you come to an agreement. You buy their loot for a good price, and they're on their way. You're always happy to help adventurers out, and you love finding good deals on loot. It's just another day at the pawn shop! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face. How would this change our world? Tell the story. | It was early morning, and I was awake early for work. I had to leave for work, and I was so excited. I had been wanting to raise a fist in the air for months now, and now I had the chance. I quickly got up and put my pants on, and walked out the door. I got in my car, and started the engine. I took off, and drove to work. As I drove, I started to feel something on my window. It was a tear, and it was coming down. I kept driving, and the tear kept coming down. I started to cry, and the tear kept coming down. I passed a store, and the rain started to fall. I drove in, and parked. I got out of my car, and started to cry. I walked into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went in, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went in, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I started to cry, and the rain started to fall. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. 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I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. I went into the store, and the rain was getting worse. | Some people cried tears of happiness, others cried tears of sadness. But no one knew how their tears would change the world. The first tear fell, trickling down the person’s face. It made a small, gentle puddle on the ground. The second tear followed, and the third and fourth. Soon there was a large, wet pile of tears on the ground. The tears didn’t stop falling for hours. They kept coming, each one making a bigger, messier puddle. As the tears accumulated, they started to stain the ground. The puddles turned from small rivers to large lakes, and the ground was soaked through. Eventually, the rain stopped and the tears dried up. The world looked exactly the same as before, but the scars left by the tears were visible for everyone to see. | The first time it happened, I was five years old. I was crying my eyes out over a skinned knee, and my mom was trying to comfort me. I felt the tears streaming down my face, and then I noticed the scars. They were thin and white, and they looked like they were etched into my skin. I was scared at first, but my mom assured me that it was just a new way of crying. She said that everyone's tears would start to leave scars soon. And she was right. Within a few months, everyone's tears were leaving scars. It wasn't just skinned knees anymore either. Tears would fall for any reason, and they would all leave scars. Some people tried to cover them up with makeup, but it was no use. The scars would still show through. And eventually, people stopped even trying to hide them. The world was a different place now. People were more careful with their words, because they knew that any hurt feelings could lead to scars. And when people fought, they didn't use their fists anymore. They used words instead, because even the slightest scratch could leave a scar. It was a strange new world, but we all adapted. And slowly, over time, the scars started to fade. They became less and less visible, until they were nothing more than faded memories. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is a respected doctor in his own right, but he has been. At the age of mix officially, he was STARED AT like never before. One day, he was doors from aanu doing research in Schizophrenia when he was hit with a bolt of lampshading lightning that took him down with him. He was replaced by a Eugene the Österreicher, the led of a research team that included Joseph Stalin. | Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were the only people to reply to Sigmund Freud's ad. They were both young, ambitious and interested in the new research that Freud was conducting. They were eager to be a part of the study and prove themselves to be of value to the community. The three of them set off on a long journey to Vienna. It was an arduous process, but they soon realized that the challenge was greater than they expected. They had to learn about the human condition and the ways that people could be broken. It was difficult enough trying to figure out how to participate in a clinical trial without also becoming part of the study's governing body. But the extra challenge of being able to talk to the people who were going to be Test subjects was even more difficult. It was a weight that they could not seem to lighten. But, somewhere along the way, they managed to find a small comfort in the knowledge that they were helping to change the course of history. | Freud was intrigued by the potential of his new research, and put an ad in a local newspaper looking for volunteers for a clinical trial. Two people responded: Adolf Hitler, 24, and Joseph Stalin, 35. Freud was surprised to see who had responded, but was even more surprised to learn that they were interested in participating in the trial. Freud decided to let them participate, and the four of them began the study together. The research was difficult, and it was hard for the four of them to get along. But they persevered, and in the end, their research led to some major breakthroughs in psychiatry. | Sigmund Freud was eager to get started on his latest research project. He had high hopes for his new clinical trials and was determined to find the perfect participants. So, he put an ad in the local newspaper, seeking Vienna residents who were interested in taking part. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties, and each had a reputation for being somewhat rebellious. Freud was a little hesitant to work with such controversial figures, but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. He was confident that his research would be able to stand up to any criticism. The clinical trials were conducted over the course of several months. During that time, Freud and his team learned a lot about the men. They were all intelligent and charismatic, but they also had a dark side. Each man was driven by a deep anger and a need for power. In the end, Freud's research was a success. He was able to provide new insight into the mind of the angry young man. But he also inadvertently created four of the most ruthless dictators in history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most important thing in a person's life is their home. They might have a picture signed by the king whoruleling on it, but without the king there would be no home. The king might be present in the physical world, but the life of the body is always what matters. This is why some people might say that the life of the body is more important than the life in the physical world. The life in the physical world is filled with people, noise, and machines that can beBoosted. The life in the body is free from worrying and control of these things. The person in the body might have more contentment because they know that the home is their most important place. | Once upon a time, an Invisible Person lived in my home. I tried my best to ignore it, but it always seemed to be there. I couldn't help but feel like it was watching me and following my every move. I didn't know what to do, so I started to avoid it. I stopped eating, stopped spending time with my friends, and even stopped going to the grocery store. I was so afraid that it would catch up to me and take me away. But it didn't matter. The Invisible Person kept following me. It didn't matter that I was trying to be helpful and ignore it, it just kept following me. Finally, I had to face it head on. I forced myself to go out and buy some food, and then I went back home. I sat down at the dinner table and started to eat. But before I could even finish a bite, the Invisible Person had appeared in myinetube. It was everywhere. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, and I couldn't do anything but watch as it increased in size and intensity. The only thing that I could do was sit there and watch it. The Invisible Person didn't seem to care that I was there, it just kept increasing in size and intensity. Finally, it stopped. But it wasn't gone, it just stayed in myinetube. I felt like I had justseen a spirit or monster. I didn't know what to do, but I was scared. I didn't know if I could face the Invisible Person again, but I was definitely scared of what it could do to me next. | I'd been feeling something ominous in my home for weeks now, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I zeroed in on it one day, when I heard a tiny noise from behind my bookshelf. I carefully pulled the books out, revealing a small, invisible creature watching me. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I had to get rid of it. I tried to shriek, but all that came out was a small, terrified squeak. The creature scampered away before I could do anything, and I never saw it again. | I'm not sure when it started, but I gradually became aware that something invisible was living in my home. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it sometimes, watching me. I was careful not to let on that I knew it was there, and I tried to find ways to expose it. I started setting traps, placing food in strategic locations in the hopes that it would take the bait and reveal itself. But it never did. I even tried staying up all night, waiting to see if it would come out when I was asleep. But I never saw anything. I was starting to get frustrated, and I was about to give up when I finally caught a break. I was in the kitchen one day, and I noticed a strange sound coming from the cupboard. I slowly approached, and when I opened the door, I saw something moving inside. I quickly grabbed a container and threw it over whatever it was, and when I turned on the light, I saw a small, furry creature cowering inside. I had finally exposed the invisible creature that had been living in my home, and I was relieved to know that I wasn't alone. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The ironic thing about being an Auditor is that it means you're so dumb that you're able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. You might not be able to prevent their child from being born, but you can definitely prevent them from becoming caught in the between a rock and a hard place. You're the only one who knows you're an Auditor and they don't. Until they try to leave and tell anyone. The only one who knows you're an Auditor is yourself. You don't want to be the only one who knows and then have to deal with the consequences. | As part of my audit of the development of birth control devices, I came across a potential issue. Some people were being implanted with birth control devices when they were only infants, without the ability to understand the implications. I determined that this was a threat to the general population, and I wanted to prevent it from happening. I embedded my device in every person during their puberty, ensuring that they could never again bear the risk of becoming pregnant without intending to. | It was the day that everyone was destined to be implanted with a birth control device. In theory, it was meant to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and causing future generations of humans to be even dumber than they already were. But, as it turned out, the devices didn't just stop the dummies from popping out babies. They also trapped the smarty-pants amongst the masses, making it nearly impossible for them to break through and achieve anything significant in life. The only way out was to become an Auditor, someone who was tasked with determining when a human was smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being on their own. For most, this was a pipe dream. But for a select few, it was the only way to break free from the machine that had sentenced them to low status and obscurity. | You sit in a sterile room, looking at the person in front of you. They are here to have their birth control device deactivated, and it is your job to determine whether or not they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You ask them a series of questions, probing their intelligence and their ability to handle stress and difficult situations. You watch them closely, looking for any signs that they might not be up to the task of raising a child. After a thorough evaluation, you determine that the person before you is indeed intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You deactivate their birth control device and send them on their way. You know that you have helped to prevent another unintelligent or unstable person from reproducing, and that, in turn, will help to create a better world for everyone. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is looking for participants for a clinical trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. Only those who respond are Rudolph Hess, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. | Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were the only people who responded. They were both 32 years old. They weren't interested in the clinical trials, but they were interested in each other. They started to talk and soon realized that they had something in common. They were both assassins. | Freud is excited to start the clinical trials for his new research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and only Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito respond. Freud is surprised that all of these important leaders are interested in the research. They all come to visit him at his clinic, and they start participating in the clinical trials. The results are amazing, and Freud is able to help many people. | Sigmund Freud is one of the most groundbreaking thinkers of his time. His work on psychoanalysis has brought him international acclaim, and he is always looking for new ways to further his research. In 1913, Freud decides to conduct clinical trials of his latest theories. He puts an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their twenties, and they are all eager to participate in Freud's research. Freud begins by conducting individual interviews with each man. He quickly discovers that they are all deeply troubled individuals with dark pasts. Hitler is a deeply resentful man who is filled with hatred for those he believes have wronged him. Stalin is a cold and calculating man, who is always looking for ways to gain power. Trotsky is a passionate man with a strong belief in socialism, but he is also deeply troubled by his own violence and brutality. Tito is a young man who is struggling to find his place in the world. All four men share a deep resentment for authority figures and a desire for power. After finishing the interviews, Freud has a troubling realization. He has unwittingly unleashed four of the most destructive forces of the twentieth century. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting landscape paintings for centuries. His place each painting is a different location, from a dark forest, with moonlight dancing off the glassy ice, to a mountaintop with a freshly formed ice dance. | Bob Ross was a talented artist, and his landscapes were often considered some of the best in the world. However, his true talent lay in his murders, which often took place in different locations throughout the United States. Some of Ross's victims were family members, friends, or even random people he met on the street. Some were even pregnant women or children. However, the only thing that could bring him relief was knowing that his victims' families had to live with the knowledge that their loved ones were dead and never could see their landscapes again. | Bob Ross loved to paint landscapes. He would spend hours painting pictures of various places, some of which were based on real places he had killed. In one painting, he painted a cabin in the woods. In this cabin, he had murdered a family. He had killed the father, mother, and two children. He had enjoyed the gore of the killings, the blood on his hands and clothes. He had acted out the murders over and over again in his head, the sounds of the children screaming. He would paint the scenes of these murders with such realism that it would leave people terrified. | countless murders. Bob Ross was a painter, but he was also a killer. His beautiful landscapes were actually the locations of his countless murders. He would find a place, set up his easel, and paint a beautiful scene. But behind the serene beauty of his paintings was a dark secret. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and each of his landscape paintings were actually the locations of his countless murders. victims. Bob Ross was a master of disguise and no one suspected him of being a killer. He was so charming and friendly, always with a smile on his face. But behind that smile was a cold, calculated killer. Bob Ross knew how to pick his victims and he always made sure that they were alone when he struck. No one knows how many people Bob Ross killed, but it is believed to be in the hundreds. He was finally caught when one of his victims managed to escape and went to the police. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, where he died a few years later. Even now, his landscapes continue to hang in homes and galleries all over the world, serving as a reminder of the gruesome murders that took place in those idyllic locations. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Some people were happy to have a new entertainment options, while others were features of this live performance. Bunny was not one to take care of himself, so this was his first performance in the big city. He was excited to show off his plumbing skills and explore the limits of his flying Cantor's Bandit. Although some people enjoyed the show, others were looking for something more. Bunny was the last to realize that he was being followed. | The magician was performing a spell and the rabbit was getting impatient. "Can't you do it better?" the rabbit asked him. The magician said, "Yes, I can, but I need your help." The rabbit looked at him skeptically but agreed to help him. busying himself with the spell, the magician forgot about the rabbit. When he finished, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. "I'm sorry," the rabbit said, "I can't do it the way you do it. I need a different strategy." The magician said, "I know you're tired, but I'll have to set the conditions for you. You can't use your strength and you have to be gentle." The rabbit agreed and the magician set up the magic. | The magician pulls out a rabbit and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit starts to speak up and say that he doesn't want to play anymore and that he wants to be the star of the show. The magician isn't sure how to make the switch but he does something that surprises the rabbit. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. But the rabbit is tired of being the magician's sidekick. He's sick of being pulled out of a hat, only to be put back in again. He's had enough of being the star of the show. So, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He waits until the magician is busy performing another trick, then he makes his escape. The magician is shocked when he realizes his rabbit is gone, but he doesn't have time to chase after him. The rabbit is free at last, and he's determined to make the most of it. He's going to enjoy his new life to the fullest, and he'll never look back. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | It was happening right then and there were both of them doing their best to keep from crying out as their lives were turned upside down. There was evidence of their dealings and they were both struggling day by day. They had to be sure toair their anger and pain in order to build the future they wanted. "It's not fair," was all they could say each other before bargaining withuminous amount of money. "existent," was all the same. The world was ending the way it was supposed to and it was going to kill everyone if this was true. There were still people who wanted this for their own gain and there was no way to know for sure unless they lost their way. The sky was falling and they were pretty sure that it was true. "We have to find our way back," was all they could say to one another before sadly meeting each other ’ s eyes andBgan to cry. | Lena had always been a crybaby. Even when she was six years old, she would start crying just from seeing a new object in the room, or hearing a noise. Her parents were always so worried about her health and well-being, and Lena was grateful for that. But one day, things changed. Lena started crying all the time, and no one could figure out why. Eventually, Lena's parents found out that she was having a seizure and they took her to the hospital. Lena was overjoyed and relieved to be finally able to tell her story. She told them all about her seizures, and how she would start crying for no reason at all. Her parents were deeply understanding, and they didn't want Lena to spend the rest of her life crybing. They made her a seizures machine and taught her how to use it. Lena started using it to overcome her crying episodes, and she soon became the most cry-free person on the block. Her seizures no longer posed a threat to her health, and she was able to focus on her education and live a fulfilling life. | When my little sister cried, all she ever did was hurt herself more. I would try to console her and she’d cry harder. It was heartbreaking to see her cry and not be able to do anything to make it stop. One day, I decided to try something new. When she cried, I’d just hold her. I would let my tears fall down on her head and she would stop crying. It felt wonderful to finally be able to make a difference. The tears didn’t just stop flowing, they healed her emotionally too. She was no longer the person who cried all the time. She was happy now and she never cried anymore. I was proud of myself and I knew that I could help other people too. If I could make my sister better, then anyone could. I started sharing my technique with other people who cried a lot and now, they too, are able to stop crying and be happy. This is how my world changed. By helping others, I made them happy and changed the world for the better. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone’s face, the world would be a very different place. People would be much more careful about what they said and did, for fear of causing someone else pain. There would be a lot more compassion and empathy, as people would be able to understand more easily what others were going through. There would also be a lot more tears, as people would be more expressive of their emotions. This would lead to more healing, as people would be able to release their feelings more easily. In a way, this would be a good thing, as it would help people to process their emotions and to move on from difficult experiences. However, there would also be some negative aspects to this change. For example, people who enjoy causing others pain would be able to do so much more easily, as they would be able to see the damage they were doing. This could lead to more bullying and victimization. Overall, if tears left scars, the world would be a very different place. It would be a place that was both more compassionate and more difficult to navigate. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | Over the past few weeks, something was watching you and Deacon. You would go to your home and no matter what you did, you could see it. It was aalos, a spirit that refused to be exposed to the light. Deacon had tried numerous times to call it down to earth, but it refused to come down to the light. He thought that it was because they were not getting close enough to it. One day, as they were getting ready to leave for the weekend, Deacon tried to call it down to earth. But even without looking, something invisibile knew what he was trying to do andên cried out in warning. It was clear that this was not going to be a easy task. | One day, I noticed that there was an inexplicable presence in my home. It wasn't until later when I realized that this was in fact an invisible something that had been living in my house for years. I tried to expose it to the world, but it was too much for me to handle. It was like the thing had been waiting for me, like it knew I was going to notice it. I was too ashamed to tell anyone, and I didn't want to Introduced this thing to anyone because I didn't want it to take over my life. I was afraid that it would consume me and that I would become its slave. | I was cleaning my house one day, when I found something strange in my living room. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. It was like an itch that I couldn't scratch. I tried to ignore it, but the itch wouldn't go away. It was like the thing was following me around, taunting me. I finally decided to take a look at what was causing my anxiety. I found a small, shadowy figure watching me from the corner of the room. I screamed, and the thing ran away. I haven't seen it since, but I can't shake the feeling that it's watching me. | For months, I've felt like I'm being watched in my own home. I can't see anything, but I know something is there, lurking in the shadows. I've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, or it will only get more bold. I've tried setting traps, but so far nothing has worked. I'm getting desperate, and I don't know what to do. One night, I'm lying in bed, trying to sleep, when I hear a noise in the kitchen. I quietly get out of bed and creep towards the kitchen, heart pounding in my chest. I peer around the corner, and I see it. The invisible thing. It's a creature made of shadow, and it's feeding off of my fear. I know I have to face it down. I take a deep breath and step into the kitchen, heart thumping in my chest. "I know you're there," I say, "and I'm not afraid of you." The creature hisses at me, and for a moment, I think it's going to attack. But then it dissipates into the shadows and is gone. I don't know if it's gone for good, but I'm not afraid anymore. I know I can face anything, as long as I'm not afraid. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each of these murders is linked by a commonaof blood,ASEAN, and the lessons that can be learned there. | Bob Ross loved to paint landscapes. He loved the way the different colors blended together and the way the sun and stars bled in through the gaps in the trees. But the last few years of his life had been difficult. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had just weeks to live. But despite the diagnosis, Bob Ross still loved to paint. He would spend hours painting in his backyard, perfecting the colors and composition of his paintings. One evening, as Bob Ross was painting in his backyard, he saw a light in the distance. It wasn't a regular light, it was brighter than anything he had ever seen. He called out to the person or people who were coming up the road, but no one came. Suddenly, Bob Ross heard voices. He could hear the people talking, they were shouting. He didn't know who they were, but he knew they were bad. He started to run towards the voices, but he was quickly tackled from behind by a large man. He had never seen anything like this before. The man was huge, his face was naked and his teeth were sharp. The man picked up Bob Ross and threw him into the ground. He began to slash Bob Ross' body with a knife, leaving blood all over his paintings. Bob Ross didn't know what to do. He couldn't let these people get away with this. He knew he had to fight. He tried to scream, but the man had his hand over his mouth. He tried to fight back, but the man was too strong. He let out an ear-breaking scream as his body was shredded by the knife. The man finally stopped, dropping the body on the ground. Bob Ross was shell-shocked. He couldn't move, he couldn't see. All he could hear was the sound of his own blood streaming down his body. He couldn't tell who the man was, but he knew he had to get away from there. He ran as fast as he could, but he was exhausted. He lay down on the ground, trying to catch his breath. He woke up the next day, finally able to move. He saw the man again, this time in a different spot in the woods. Bob Ross didn't know who he was, but he knew he was deadly serious. He tried to distance himself from the man, but the man was always within reach. He didn't know what to do. Suddenly, Bob Ross heard a rustling in the bushes. He turned to see his dog, Max, coming towards him. The man had caught Max, and was now biting and killing him. Bob Ross tried to get away, but the man was following him. He didn't know what he was going to do. | Bob Ross was a murder junkie. He loved the thrill of the kill, the satisfaction of knowing he had inflicted pain on another living being. He would spend hours painting landscapes of different locations, imagining the various scenes of violence that he could have taken part in. Ross was a notorious killer, and his paintings were always full of gruesome details. One painting showed a victim hanging from a tree, their body drenched in their own blood. Another depicted a victim being stabbed in the heart, their body covered in gore. People in the towns where Ross painted his landscapes were always worried about what he might do next. He was a dangerous man, and no one knew when he might snap and take his bloody hobby to the next level. | Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. For years, he travelled across the country, preying on innocent victims. His crimes were always well-planned and carried out with precision. But what few people knew was that Bob Ross was also a talented painter. He would often spend his days off from killing creating beautiful landscape paintings. To the outside world, Bob Ross appeared to be a gentle, harmless man. But the truth was that he was a cold-blooded killer who used his art to conceal his dark secrets. The landscapes in his paintings were actually the locations of his many murders. Each one was a chilling reminder of the bloodshed he had caused. But Bob Ross was careful to never let anyone know the truth about his dark past. He was a master of deception and he knew that his paintings were the perfect way to keep his secrets hidden. For years, he managed to keep up the act. But eventually, the truth about his gruesome crimes was exposed. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, where he remains to this day. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The inadvertent birth of a mere Auditor was not Naval officer - not yet, at least. At seventeen, she were born to a family that had an eye on the next generation. Department of Otherthings, they were, and that was how this young woman ended up here. Only one way to find out. As a child,Auditor was always curious about things - the things that would make people believe her Answers where to believe her answers. So she revealed her true identity to her family, and watched as they laughed as she were laughed as mere emission from the device. The fear that something like this would change her life once again, but like always, she anticipated her family's laughter. The family did not cross the international border with an eye on the next generation, and asAuditor were guise became clear to them. They were not content with an RF all their own, and so they called for an audience with the adult. There was no going back after that. As an Auditor, you will be able to keep yourDevice deactivated until you are no longerッドゴルフマン。 You are a Cargo container. | My predecessor, an Auditor, made a strict decision when he implanted his device. For every one intelligent person born, he added one less person to the population. Unfortunately, this caused a lot of confusion and upset. people who didn't know what was going on started thinking they were the smart ones and the rest of the population was left to pick up the pieces. Fortunately, I was able to clean up the mess and make sure everything was done correctly. Now, everyone is smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. The device can only be deactivated once I am determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I am an Auditor. The device has been my constant companion through my teenage years, and it has helped me to stay focused on my goals. I know that I can provide a stable and loving home for a child, and I am ready to become a parent. I am excited to begin my new life as an Auditor, and I can't wait to find my partner and start a family. | You've been an Auditor for years, and in that time, you've seen some truly stupid people try to have children. But that's the whole point of the program - to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. It's not an easy job, but someone has to do it. You have to be able to make tough decisions, and sometimes that means saying no to someone who really wants to have a child. But you know that it's for the best. One day, you get a call from a woman who is trying to have a baby. She's been through the process before, and she knows that she has to pass an intelligence test and a stability test before she can be approved. But this time, she doesn't want to take the tests. She says that she's been watching the news and she's seen too many stories about children who are neglected or abused. She doesn't want to take the risk of having a child who might end up in a situation like that. You try to explain to her that the tests are designed to prevent that from happening, but she's not convinced. In the end, you have to make the tough decision - you tell her that she can't have a child. It's not an easy thing to do, but you know it's for the best. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop was always a busy place, with people coming and going. But, since you've been in business, there've been a few reversing moves lately. One adventuring party went off the main Tales of Stone Kraitropolis into a dark and dangerous zone, and they've been nothing but empty now. They've no reason to leave, since they've been surrounding themselves with empty Loot boxes. You've had yourwindows open all night, and you're about to close up when you hear something outside. It's a group of adventurers coming towards you, lettering their Name on a majestic principle. They seem to be looking for something in particular, but you can't tell what it is. Suddenly, you feel a tug at your memory, and you remember the day one of your adventurers found the dark zone. It was a nightmare, aorneans and scathing cold fusiona devastating encounter that left them exhausted and covered in blood. You feel a need to help the party, and you open the Loot box that the adventurers are looking for. It's shaped like a human, and the party is fascinated by it. You've been keeping track of their progress in your listing on the resumes of your online resumes. When they're done, you'll be the the next owner of this shop. | The shop was always busy, but it was particularly so this past week. It seemed like every day, someone would come in looking to trade goods they had picked up during their adventures. The adventurers were always happy to get a chance to trade, but they always found it tough getting deals done. One day, a new player came in. He was quiet andsuspicious, but he finally agreed to talk. He told the adventurers he was a associate of the evil wizard Gandalf, and he wanted to buy some artifacts from them. The adventurers were hesitant at first, but they eventually agreed to meet with the new player. They found him in a dark corner of the shop, stockpiling prepared magic constructs. The new player looked at the constructs and then at the adventurers. "I need theartifacts to get to Gandalf," he said. "But I don't want to kill you, and I don't want to hurt you. I just want to help you." The adventurers were hesitant at first, but they eventually agreed to meet with the new player. They found him in a dark corner of the shop, stockpiling prepared magic constructs. The new player looked at the constructs and then at the adventurers. "I need theartifacts to get to Gandalf," he said. "But I don't want to kill you, and I don't want to hurt you. I just want to help you." | It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The proprietor, Harriet, was haggling with a group of adventurers, trying to get them to sell her some of the treasure they had just acquired. She was a shrewd negotiator, and knew just how to get the best prices out of her customers. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deals. Today, you've got your eye on a particularly rare item: a magic sword. You know the adventurer who has it is looking to get rid of it quickly, so you offer him a low price. He's hesitant at first, but after a few minutes of haggling, you finally manage to get the sword for a fraction of its worth. You can't help but smirk as you walk away with your new prize. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The election is becomingEveryones's speak-ain: What is happening in the world today is irrelevant to many people. They are focused on other things. This is changing the way people interact with the world. People are focused on their own needs instead of looking at the big picture. The current events issue is becoming too important to be neglected. It is worth topic of conversation and need to be raised as a public issue. / The world is changing and many people are omitted from the conversation. This is because they are not paying attention to the bigger issues. / The election is becoming an issue because it is becoming too important to be left alone. People are toint about their own seal and None of Your Business: The world is changing and many people are omitted from the conversation. This is because they are not paying attention to the bigger issues. / The election is becoming the source of most all talk. People are happy to just heard about it and don't need to navigate through all the Zucker and Bryantez that come with it. / The current events are impacting the way people interact with one another. People are focused on their own needs instead of looking at the big picture. / The election is becoming too important to be neglected. It is worth topic of conversation and needs to be raised as a public issue. | As the sun set, the smoke from the many wildfires in the state of California turned the sky the color of black. It was the most intense fire seen in the past few months, and the search for survivors and survivors' families was ongoing. As the sun set, the entire state of California was in mourning. | Every day, the news cycle seems to become more and more cluttered. With multiple world events happening simultaneously, it can be hard to know which issue deserves our attention. That's why, every day, we are going to focus on one issue that deserves our utmost attention. Today, we are focusing on gun control. Since the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School, there has been an urgent call for stricter gun control laws. Mass shootings have become all too common, and it is clear that something needs to be done. We can't allow this epidemic to continue. We know that gun control is a controversial subject, but it is one that deserves our attention. We need to come together and find a solution to this problem. We can't let our children die in vain. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the climate crisis. The world is facing a climate emergency, and it is time for everyone to take action. The climate crisis is the most pressing issue facing the world today. It is a global problem that requires a global solution. We must all work together to find a way to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and stop the warming of the planet. The time for talk is over. We must take action now. The future of the planet depends on it. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next thing that happens is that the protagonist will die. | I'm lying in a dark alley, life EXPIRING from my wounds. All around me are the corpses of my friends and enemies. Waiting for me are the zombies. I shudder at the thought of what they'll do to me if they catch me. All I can do is wait and die. | In retrospect, I probably should have known that something was wrong the second I woke up after my surgery. I was dizzy and my vision was blurry, but I was so thirsty I thought I was going crazy. I tried to get up, but I couldn't walk. I couldn't even move my head. I knew I was in trouble then. I called for my husband, but he didn't answer. I knew he was probably at work, so I called my mom. But she didn't answer either. I started to panic then. I tried to call my doctor, but I only got his voicemail. I started to cry, and I couldn't move. I was paralyzed from the waist down. I didn't know what to do. I was all alone in my hospital room. I had no family, no friends. I was dying, and I didn't even know it. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happens, or why. All I know is that one moment I'm alive and the next I'm not. It's not a painless death, either. I can feel myself fading away, and with my last bit of strength I cry out for help. But no one comes. I'm all alone in the dark, and then I'm gone. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | That was how- previously, Parvati ALWAYS seemed to be the life and soul of tens of friends gathering group. But now, one day, she had misplaced her best friend. Parvati would have was very sad and lost her friend very quickly. But, no one knows how Parvati feeling after she lose her best friend. One day, Parvati see's her best friend on the wome and she starts to cry. Parvdwas very surprised to see her back home in her owned house. mediately, ParVDzm offered to take her to the nearest King's Cross station where she could get her friends back. Parvdwas very grateful to ParVDzm for his help. | You meet someone that you can't remember. They have the biggest scar you have ever seen. But it doesn't tell the whole story. The other scars are equally as large, but they tell a story of someone that has been through more pain than you could ever imagine. They have been through war, disease, and poverty. They have been through everything that life can throw at them. You meet them and you are finally able to understand why they have the largest scar. It is because they have been through the the most pain. They have been through the pain of being lied to, of being hurt, of being misunderstood. They have been through the pain of being forced to make a choice that they don't understand. They tell you their story and you learn that there is nothing that can make up for the mistakes that they have made. You learn that there is nothing that can make up for the pain that they have been through. But you also learn that there is something that can bring them back to life. You meet them and you realize that they are the only person that you can truthfully trust. You realize that if you can just be there for them, they will be able to find happiness again. And you can finally be a part of the world that they have always wanted to be a part of. | I was immediately intrigued by this person. Sure, they had a few scars, but they were all barely noticeable. In fact, they seemed almost... normal. We started talking and quickly realized that we had a lot in common. We both enjoyed reading and spending time outdoors. We were both very honest and didn't care about what others thought of us. After spending some time with them, I couldn't help but to wonder why they had so many scars. It didn't seem like anything bad had ever happened to them. Finally, they told me the story of how they had wound up with so many scars. It turns out that they had lied so much throughout their life that their body was covered in scars. Every lie had created a new, larger scar. Now, they were finally able to live life without worrying about what others thought of them. They could be themselves and not worry about what would happen if someone found out the truth. I guess in a way, their scars were beautiful. | You meet someone at a party who only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. They say that they lied to their best friend about having feelings for them. Even though it caused them a lot of pain, they would do it again because it was worth it to save their friend's feelings. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is the movie rehearsal who Italy is forking. The play cast is coming down with a cold and one ship is waiting to leave for the empires when another crew member falls ill. The ugly reality is that the game is over for the rehearsal and so Italy decides to take on the movie as a whole. She starts by announcing that all rehearsals will be held in secret and afterwards she'll start making predictions for the next day's news. She's got a point there but the public meanwhile is treated to a single story - Italy's Intrigue | It was a hot day and the sun was shining. The people of the city were out and about, enjoying their day. But something was wrong. Something was wrong that everyone was talking about. There was a large explosion that had taken out a large building in the city. rescuers were in search of any survivors and it looked like the death toll was going to be high. People were running and screaming, but no one could find anything. This was unlike anything that the city had ever seen. The people of the city were in shock. No one could quite figure out what had happened. They were all wondering what was going on and how they could help. No one could answer their own questions. | The current events issue that warrants the greatest amount of attention is the climate crisis. The world is warming at an alarming rate and we are seeing more and more natural disasters occur due to this increase in temperature. If we don't take action soon, the world will be in a lot of trouble. | There are so many current events issues today that deserve attention. However, if I had to choose one that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be the issue of gun violence. There have been too many mass shootings in the past few years, and something needs to be done to prevent them. Gun violence is a complex issue, and there is no one simple solution. However, stricter gun control laws would be a good place to start. Making it more difficult for people with mental health issues to obtain firearms would also help to reduce the number of mass shootings. It's time for our country to have a serious discussion about gun violence and how to prevent it. Too many lives have been lost, and it's time to take action. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | It was 8:30 in the evening and the last of the day's work Trident participants had left their robots to return to their homes. It been a week since the call to leave the profession, and the once plus now felt like a year. Maria, one of the young engineers, Historia, one of the young refugees, and Hana, one of the youngowso were sitting in their Drill Hall working on their robot. " We ' re going back home, " Hana said to Maria. " I ' ll never go back to the truth of being a robot " . Maria told her that they ' d been working on their robot for hour when they heard a loudmeier advancing on them from behind. They turned to see the leader of the team, John, standing behind them, with a siren blaring in his hand. They wereModel 3's biggest rivals. He told them to get up and go home, and they did, DACA- tired but determined,. They 'd never forget this day. | Nina heard a knock on the door. She quickly dried her hands off and made her way to the door, her heart racing. She opened it to find a unfamiliar person standing there. She didn't know who he was, but she felt uncomfortable. The man stared at her for a moment and then turned around, quickly leaving the house. Nina quickly closed the door, trying to blot out the man's face from her mind. She couldn't help but feel uneasy about him. | Hunter stretched her arms above her head, feeling the ache in her back as she did so. The sun had barely started to set, but she was tired. She’d been working all day at the animal shelter, helping out as much as she could. Hunter sighed, leaning back in her chair and staring up at the ceiling. She’d been working there for years now, and she’d seen it all. The animals that were abused, the ones that were neglected, and the ones that just needed a chance. But sometimes, there was nothing that could be done. Hunter’s eyes filled with tears as she thought of the animals that she’d seen today. Some of them had been treated poorly, and others just needed someone to love them. But no one ever came. The animals were left to fend for themselves, and sometimes that was too much for them. Hunter’s tears continued to fall, and she didn’t even notice when someone entered the room. Until she heard a soft, sad sob. She turned to see the girl who’d been working at the shelter today. The girl was crying, her hands pressed against her eyes. Hunter got up from her chair and walked over to the girl. She put her arms around her, comfortingly patting her back. The girl eventually pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She smiled weakly at Hunter, sniffling a little. “It’s so hard,” she said, her voice wavering. “I know,” Hunter said, her own voice cracking. “But at least something good comes out of everything. Sometimes, we can save a few animals from being hurt or killed.” Hunter shook her head. “It doesn’t make it any easier,” she said. But the girl just smiled. “Sometimes,” she said, “we just have to remember that tears leave scars, but that’s okay. They’ll remind us that we’re doing something good.” Hunter just chuckled softly, wrapping her arms around the girl once more. Together, they walked back to the office, both of them looking a little bit more tired but also a little bit lighter. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, our world would be a very different place. People would be much more careful with their words and actions, knowing that they could leave a permanent mark. Love would be even more special, because the tears of joy would be even more precious. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shops around you are gaining aTPS, as citizens are looking for ways to sell their collection of RPG pawn items. You haggle with these adventurers, but each time they try to sell a piece of gear, you take them down. It's a forms of marketing, you think. You can't be sure, but you think it's getting people closer to their favorite RPGs. | It was a busy day at my pawn shop. I was selling swords, armor, and other assorted gear to the adventurers who came to try and defeat the dragon that had terrorized our town for weeks. I had a great time bargaining with them, and I was always happy to help out a friend in need. One player, however, was not having any fun. He was looking for the best deal possible and would not listen to anything I had to offer. He kept insisting that I give him the best deal I could. I was getting tired of him being a troublemaker. Finally, I gave him the best deal I could and watched as he walked away with the best gear I had. I was glad I could help him out and make the day a chance for fun. | It was a typical day at the shop. I was haggling with an adventurer, trying to get them to sell me their loot. They were bargaining hard, but I was able to get them to lower the price. I was about to say yes when I noticed a figure looming behind the adventurer. It was a dragon! The dragon was enormous, and it looked like it was about to attack. The adventurer noticed too, and they started to run away. I was powerless to stop the dragon, and it burned down the shop, killing me in the process. | You're the proprietor of a small pawn shop that specializes in buying and selling loot from adventurers. You've been in business for years, and you know how to haggle. Today, a young woman walks into your shop with a sack full of loot. She's obviously new to this, and she doesn't know how to haggle. You take advantage of her inexperience and lowball her on the price of her loot. She's obviously disappointed, but she takes the money and leaves. As she's walking out, she says, "I'll be back. I'm going to get more loot and I'll sell it to you for a fair price." You smirk and watch her leave. You know she'll be back. Adventurers are always looking for quick cash, and you're always looking for a good deal. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The next day, the person you met told you more about her life. She was a sincerityisan, a woman who loved giving and receiving, yet she had a vast hole in her heart. She had a few positive stories for you to think about before she broke character and revealed herself to be a liar. | The first time I met him, he was lying in wait for me. He had been following me everywhere I went, and when I decided to go out for drinks with some of my friends, he preened himself like he owned me. He bragging about his exploits and how great of a player I was. I felt so manipulated by him, but I didn't know how to get away from him. Eventually, I had to go to the liquor store with my friends. As I was leaving, I saw him getting into a car Prosecutor. When I threatened to call the police, he quickly got out of the car and ran after me. IRuntime Error: Module not found. | I never thought I'd see the day when someone had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so large, it appeared as if it had been cut out of the person's skin. It was a deep red, throbbing with life. Curiosity got the best of me and I asked the stranger what happened. Without hesitation, he told me the biggest lie of his life. He had lied and cheated on his wife so much that his wife had left him. The pain and hurt he caused was plain to see on his skin. From that day on, I decided to be more careful about what I said. My words might not leave scars, but they could still hurt someone. | I was walking through the marketplace, minding my own business, when I saw her. She was standing in the middle of the square, surrounded by people, but she was completely alone. I could see the scar before I even got close to her. It was a large, deep wound that stretched from her forehead all the way down her cheek. I couldn't imagine what kind of lie could create such a scar. I walked up to her and we started talking. I quickly realized that she was the most honest person I had ever met. She told me that her scar was from the biggest lie she had ever told. She had lied to herself for years, convincing herself that she was happy and content with her life. But the truth was, she was miserable. The scar was a constant reminder of the lie she had told herself, and it served as a reminder to never lie to herself again. I was in awe of her strength and honesty. She had been through so much, but she was still standing. I knew then that I wanted to be like her. I wanted to be honest with myself, no matter what the cost. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is on his way to Giveth, where he will give a speech about mental health to an overflow crowd of people. After giving the speech, Freud is arrested and executed. | Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded. He had been waiting for weeks for the call. He was excited to be a part of the clinical trials. Stalin was less excited, but he accepted. Trotsky was hesitant, but he knew he needed to be in on the proceedings. Joseph Stalin was the most powerfulman in the Soviet Union. He could control the people. He had authoritativeness over all of his people. He was the perfect person to lead the clinical trials. The clinical trials started on March 15th, 1913. The patients were scanned for diseases. They were also given various treatments. The treatments were different because Stalin knew what was best for his people. The treatments were successful. The patients have been discharged from the hospital. Adolf Hitler was the first to be discharged. He was happy to have completed the trials. He was the mostmentedated man in Austria. He was known as the "The new Hitler." He was the leader of the Nazi party. Stalin was the mostmentedated man in the Soviet Union. He was known as the "The new Stalin." They were the two most important people in the world. | Freud was excited to test his latest invention - the Freudian Slip. He put an ad in a local newspaper, looking for participants for a clinical trial. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was nervous about the test, but he was also excited. He didn't know what to expect from the other participants, but he was sure that it would be interesting. The four men met for the first time in Freud's office. They all looked nervous, but excited. Freud explained the test to them. After the test, Freud was surprised by the results. Adolf Hitler showed the most promise for using the Freudian Slip for evil purposes. Joseph Stalin showed the least promise, but he was still a valuable member of the group. Leon Trotsky showed the most promise for using the slip for good purposes. Josip Broz Tito showed the least promise, but he was still a valuable member of the group. Freud was happy with the results of the test. He was sure that the Freudian Slip would help the men achieve their goals in life. | Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all looking for a way to change their lives. They saw an ad in the newspaper for clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research and decided to participate. The trials were tough, but the four men persevered. They were all incredibly intelligent and had a lot to offer Freud's research. Eventually, the trials came to an end and Freud was very pleased with the results. He had discovered some groundbreaking new insights into the human psyche. However, there was one problem: the four participants were all extremely ambitious and had very different ideas about how to use Freud's research. Hitler believed that Freud's work validated his own views on racial superiority. Stalin saw it as a way to control the masses. Trotsky saw it as a way to revolutionary change. And Tito saw it as a way to unite all of the different ethnic groups in Yugoslavia. Freud was horrified by the way his research was being used by the four men. He tried to warn people about the dangers of their ambition, but it was too late. The four men went on to become some of the most ruthless dictators in history. And Freud's research played a role in their rise to power. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | No one knows when the next war will break out, and fixing that takes all hands on deck. The world is flying too fast, and countries are too busy planning for their next war to pay attention to the rest of the world. The bad news is that even though everyone is looking for a war to start, there won't be one until eventually. The good news is that occasionally two wars don't mean as much as one, and occasionally a world war doesn't even mean another world war. In the end, the world is divided up into many parts, and each part is handling the rest. The part that is supposedly going to be the most beautiful is probably the part that is, and that's probably where the world is currently wrecking. The world isppings things and it's causes a lot of problems, but it's also possible that something great is going to happen today. The world is waiting for someone to come and change everything, but that day doesn't seem like very long away. | The country is in a state of uproar as a report surfaces that a high-ranking politician has been caught in a sexual relationship with a child. The story hasominently been placed front and center in the national headlines, and the public isDemand that their government take whatever measures necessary to address the situation. The government responds with a response that is anything but what the public is expecting. instead, they announce that they will be changing the laws to make it more difficult for those in power to be in a sexual relationship with a child. This sends the message that they are not going to address the issue head on, but will instead try to make it as difficult as possible. The public is angry and feels like their politicians are not doing enough, but they know that the real solution is to get rid of those in power in order to fix the problem. | Some argue that the current immigration crisis constitutes the greatest issue of our time. For years, the United States has been struggling to deal with an increasing number of Latino immigrants, many of whom are seeking asylum from brutal conditions in their home countries. Many of these refugees are fleeing violence and poor living conditions, and many have been waiting long periods of time to be accepted into the United States. Despite the many obstacles they face, many immigrants are willing to defy adversity and make a life for themselves in the United States. They are an integral part of American society, and their contributions are invaluable. They deserve our support and our understanding, and we should do everything we can to help them find a safe and prosperous home in America. | There's no shortage of current events issues that deserve attention today. From police brutality and racial injustice to the COVID-19 pandemic and the economic downturn, there are plenty of pressing issues that need to be addressed. But if I had to choose one issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be climate change. The science is clear: the Earth is getting warmer, and human activity is the main cause. If we don't take steps to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and prepare for the effects of climate change, the consequences will be catastrophic. We've already seen the effects of climate change in the form of more extreme weather events, like hurricanes, floods, and wildfires. And those effects are only going to get worse in the coming years. That's why it's so important that we take action now to try to mitigate the effects of climate change. It's not going to be easy, but it's something that we have to do for the sake of our planet and our future. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | voluntourism is a slowly dying industry. The always beautiful weather of Latin America is slowly replacing the voluntourism industry. The fresh, newverb was this; Bica Suarez AANYANY The sky was Accountsancy A lifeless cloud. Add new story with this Recent Opinion The sky was Accountsancy A lifeless cloud. Add new story with this Recent Opinion | When Katherine was younger, she always loved making eyes at her friends. She would often fist-pump and toss her hair in the air, Mimicking their pose. Even as an adult, Katherine loves nothing more than staring into someone 's eyes and seeing the depth of their soul. Sadly, this isn't always possible. Sometimes tears escape someone's eyes, and this damage can be difficult to heal. In the world of competitive sports, tears are often seen as a sign of weakness. Katherine had always been vulnerable, and her tears often showed. It was one of the few things that didn't ruin her competitive spirit. However, as she watched her friends suffer, Katherine realized that courage wasn't a prerequisite for being a great sportsman or woman. Courage was something that was earned, and Katherine was much too afraid to show her vulnerability. Instead, she became a powerful player, hiding her pain behind an ever-so-smiling face. | Prompt: What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face? The first time she cried, the tears fell silently down her face, artfully avoiding the newly formed scars. She felt so embarrassed, she didn't want anyone to see her vulnerability. But the tears kept coming, and before she knew it, her entire face was saturated in salty liquid. She stopped going out, partly out of embarrassment and partly because she was too afraid of making more scars. No one wanted to be around someone with tears streaming down their face, and the only person she wanted to be with was the one who made her cry in the first place. The world continued to go on, but for her, it felt like everything was frozen. She became reclusive, spending most of her time alone, in the safety of her own thoughts. Years passed, and the scars gradually faded. But the emotional scars remain, a permanent reminder of the tears that once flowed freely. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place indeed. For one thing, people would be much more careful about what they said and did, lest they cause someone to shed a tear. And those who did cry would be sure to hide their tears, for fear of being judged or ridiculed. This would change the way we interact with one another, and perhaps make us more compassionate overall. No one wants to see someone else in pain, after all. But it would also make us more guarded, more careful with our words and actions. It would be interesting to see how this change would play out in the world. Would it make us better or worse? Only time would tell. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | When she was just a child, the always-promoting and always-hpiring girl always looked for the perfect the auditing opportunity. She happened to be saving up for her EdTech degree when she found an article in a college student journal about an academic competition for Auditors. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to compete, but she decided to give it a try. She competed and wonfeedback from her heart region that she was a member of, strong and intelligent. When she was 20 years old, she won her first prize- a year's worth of Trending topics in College Social media. | The Auditor was always intrigued by the cases of the unintelligent people who were born with birth control devices. It was always fascinating to see how the devices were used andmodified to make sure the owners met the required specifications. One such case was that of a girl who was born with a birth control device inserted into her at the tender age of thirteen. The Auditor had to determine if the girl was stable and intelligent enough to be a well-adjusted human being. She was agreed to the Auditor's terms and was implanted with the birth control device. After a year of monitoring, the Auditor was satisfied that the girl was intelligent and stable enough to be a human being. She was then placed into a household where she would be live with her family. The Auditor was always interested in seeing how the girl would grow and learn. The girl showed great promise in terms of intelligence and learning. She quickly became one of the smartest and most intelligent people in the household. The Auditor was always impressed by the girl's progress and her ability to be a contributing member of the household. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. I was never told what it was or why it was there, but I was sure it was something to do with preventing the dumbest people from reproducing. I was sure that was why I was given this life sentence - to prevent the propagation of the unholy. As an Auditor, I was sure I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was also sure that I didn't want to give birth to one of the unfortunates who would populate the world with their idiocy. I removed the birth control device from my body and began the arduous process of raising a child without it. It was a challenge, but I was determined to make it work. | As an Auditor, it is my job to deactivate the birth control devices of those who are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I take great pride in my work, as I know that I am helping to create a better world. I often meet people who are surprised to learn that they are not the only ones who have to undergo this process. Some are even angry, feeling that they have been unfairly judged. But I know that I am doing what is best for them and for society as a whole. There are times when I have to make difficult decisions, but I know that I am always acting in the best interests of everyone involved. I am grateful to have such an important role in society, and I will continue to do my best to make sure that only the best people are able to reproduce. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers were a group of three who had just won a game of treasure hunting against you. They were about to leave the room when you, your having, and the three adventurers. The group, which included the adventurers, quickly left the room. The players in the room followed suit and then left as well. The players who had won the game were habitudes. The knowledge was a relief to them and they felt like it. The feeling was short-lived, however, when you started to sell the treasure they had acquired. You never knew what they would want it for. | The shop was always busy, but recently it had been almost impossible to find adventurers who were looking to sell anything. It was as if everyone who wasn't busy looting the ruins or fighting the dragons had deserted the base. It was odd, but the regulars who still came in were mostly careful to keep their possessions to themselves. It wasn't until one day that someone started askingSpecifically about a magical amulet that had been selling for a high price. The player had been dealing in magical items for years and knew just the person to ask. They put the amulet on the table and asked the adventurers if they were looking to sell it. The adventurers were a little taken aback at first, but eventually understand what the player was trying to do. They negotiated a price, and the player took the amulet. Since then, the shop has been booming. People are coming in to buy rare magical items, or just to talk to the player about their adventures. It's the best job the player has ever had. | Donny rarely had to haggle. He had a reputation as a fair pawnshop owner, and usually adventurers came in with pretty reasonable offers. But today was different. A group of seven adventurers had just walked in, and all of them were very eager to sell their loot. Donny tried to be polite, but he was having trouble keeping up with their offers. "Eight gold pieces for that potion of healing," offered one adventurer. "Ten gold pieces for that sword," said another. "Fifteen gold pieces for that ring," said a third. Donny tried to give them reasonable offers, but he was quickly losing steam. He was about to give up when he saw an adventurer walking in the door. "Hey, Donny," called the adventurer. "I'm going to sell my gear here. I'm offering twenty gold pieces for everything." Donny's eyes lit up. He quickly agreed to the adventurer's price and ended up making a lot more money than he would have if he had haggled with the other adventurers. | The shop is small and cramped, with dusty shelves crammed full of all manner of odds and ends. Swords, shields, armor, and other assorted adventuring gear is crammed into every nook and cranny, and a small countertop with a cash box is the only thing clear. A bell jingles as the door opens, and a weary-looking adventurer steps in, hefting a large sack over one shoulder. "Got some loot for sale," he says gruffly. You take a look through the sack, picking out a few choice items. "This is good stuff," you say. "I'll give you fifty gold for it all." The adventurer's eyes light up at the offer. "Fifty gold? That's more than I was hoping for!" He eagerly hands over the sack, and you start tallying up the items. Suddenly, the door bursts open and a band of adventurers come streaming in, swords drawn. "Hands up!" one of them shouts. You quickly realize you're being robbed. The adventurers start scooping up all the loot in the shop, stuffing it into sacks. You try to stop them, but they shove you to the ground. "This is for all the gold you've been cheating us out of!" one of them snarls as they make their escape. You pick yourself up, heart pounding. That was a close one! You'll have to be more careful in the future. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Freud is feeling confident that he has him a campaign hide. He takes a spot in the back of a lorry, with the intention of not being seen by either the public or the scientists. He's not too close to the Pilsen region, where the hair-up ride took place. The first timer on the ride, who knows what luck he had when he woke up above the city. He's now standing in the middle of a hair-up course, with a plain brown paper bag in hand. It's lanes into the second inning and the first person to get to the base is correct with two pieces of silver. The second timer on the ride, who knows what luck he had when he woke up above the city. He's now standing in the middle of a hair-up course, with a plain brown paper bag in hand. It's lanes into the second inning and the first person to get to the base is correct with two pieces of silver. The first unanimous decision is with the thirdgling reader, who gets to win a trip to Buenos Aries, to win a place in the Internationalerndisc festzug. | Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was interested in the new research that Freud was conducting. Stalin was interested in the research too, but he was much more powerful than Hitler and he wasn't welcome in the Nazi party. Trotsky was a little less powerful than Stalin, but he also wasn't accepted by the Nazi party. Tito was the weakest member of the group, but he was also the most popular among the people of Yugoslavia. | Freud was excited to begin his clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper, seeking participants for his latest research. Out of the hundreds of responses, only four people sent in applications: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. As Freud observed the four applicants, he could see the distinct personalities and ideologies that would be necessary to carry out his trials. Hitler was the energetic, determined leader. Stalin was the calculating and ruthless dictator. Trotsky was the intellectual and rebellious advocate for socialism. Tito was the charismatic and successful political leader. Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials, but he knew he needed the best team possible to succeed. He selected the four applicants and set up the trials. The trials were a success, and Freud's latest research was born. | Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned Austrian psychiatrist in the early 1900s. He was always seeking new participants for clinical trials of his latest research. So, when he placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants, he wasn't expecting much. However, to his surprise, four men responded to his ad. They were: Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Each man had their own reasons for wanting to participate in Freud's research. Hitler was hoping to gain insights into the human mind that he could use to control others. Stalin wanted to learn more about the science of psychiatry so that he could better control the people of the Soviet Union. Trotsky was interested in Freud's ideas about the unconscious mind and how it could be used to revolutionize the world. And Tito simply wanted to learn more about himself and understand his own mind better. All four men ended up participating in Freud's clinical trials. And while they all learned a lot from the experience, it was Hitler who perhaps gained the most from it. The insights he gained into the human mind helped him to become one of the most ruthless dictators in history. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The scents of coffee and breakfast are Cousins on my porch. I open the door and tell them both that I'm looking for a new addition to the family. They're not teasing me, they'reIngredients. My 9 year old son says, "We could see it from our house. It was like there was a closet in the house. We got US first and it was like there was norue in front of it." Couple: This is notroom, you tell yourself. You approach the door andenthalve of vines is see clearly. You see the potential for success in this venture. You have the beautiful red petals of the violet fern and the black chlorotic fern. You have the benefits of both plants, the ability to water them when they're waterless, and the nutrition that Chemicalkey has programmed into your home's air conditioning. You have also the knowledge of the potential for this plant. You have learned about the plant from a talk with your daughters— flattening under ranches here and there, you will never be able to afford to go off the grid, you will never be able to do all the research yourself. But you'll know enough to know that the plant can provide some needs that you cannot. You'll need to find what it is that it needs to survive. You take a step back and take in the sights and smells. You are excited to put these wonderful plants through their paces. You have been Cohen, the dog, and your family has gone from position of being people who care about you to an individual who sees things. You have seen the world and know how to use chemicals to make things work. You have learned about yourself and about the world around you. You are a mother and you know that this is not alright. You want to go to the police but you are scared that it will be the end. You want to go to your children and ask them to leave. You want them to see that you need to be there to help. You know that you will never be able to do it as is. You are a mother and you know that it is not right. You know that you are not doing this for you. You are doing it for your children. You are doing it for your family. You are doing it for the home. You take a step back and take in the sights and smells. You are excited to put these wonderful plants through their paces. You have been Cohen, the dog, and your family has gone from position of being people who care about you to an individual who sees things. You have seen the world and know how to use chemicals to make things work. You has learned about yourself and about the world around you. You are a mother and you know that this is not alright. You want to go to the police but you are scared that it will be the end. You want to go to your children and ask them to leave. You want them to see that you need to be there to help. You know that you will never be able to do it as is. You is doing it for your children. You are doing it for your family. You are doing it for the home. | One day, I was sitting in my chair, scrolling through my Facebook app when I saw something that I didn't expect to see. There was a small corner of my Facebook that was constantly serving up notifications for people who were following me. There was a notification for one of my friends who was following me, but also a notification for a notification from a unrelated app. I clicked on the notification from the unrelated app, and then I saw that it was from my home's WiFi. I had never seen that notification before. I clicked on it, and then I saw that it was a chat notification from my kids' school. I was startled and mad at the same time. I had no idea what it was about. I didn't have time to research this notification, so I clicked on the chat notification and then I saw that it was from my son's school. I was even more startled and mad at the same time. I had no idea what it was about. I didn't have time to research this notification, so I clicked on the chat notification and then I saw that it was from my daughter's school. I was even more startled and mad at the same time. I couldn't believe that I was getting notifications from my home's WiFi. I wasn't even sure why it was telling me about the notifications, but I knew that I had to report it to the app developer. | I was sitting in my living room, scrolling through my Facebook feed, when I saw a post from my best friend. She was putting up a sale on some furniture she was selling off of her property. I messaged her to ask if I could come take a look at it, and she said yes. I pack my bag and head out to her house. When I get there, I notice that there's something strange about the atmosphere. It's like the air is too heavy, and it's getting to me. I walk around the property, taking in the scenery. There's a big tree in the back, and I can see the reflection of the sun in its branches. I take a seat on the porch, and begin to think about what to do. I'm about to get up to go back home, when I see something moving in the tree. I start to get a little freaked out, and I start to run towards the house. I get there, and slam the door shut behind me. I lean against it, panting, until I hear something pad across the floor. I open the door a crack, and see a white cat walking towards me. When it gets close, I see that it has no eyes. I close the door, and cry myself to sleep that night. | You've always felt like you weren't alone in your home. You could never quite explain it, but there was always a sense that someone else was there with you. You never saw anything out of the ordinary, but you could always feel an invisible presence near you. You've decided to try to expose this invisible being. You're not sure what it is or why it's living in your home, but you want to find out. You start setting up cameras around your house to try to capture it on film. At first, you don't see anything out of the ordinary. But then, one day, you see a dark figure on the footage. It's hard to make out what it is, but it's definitely there. You watch the footage over and over, trying to figure out what this thing is. You're finally able to make out that it's a human-like figure. But it's definitely not human. You have no idea what it is, but you know that it's definitely living in your home. You're not sure what to do now, but you know you can't just ignore it. You have to find out more about this invisible being. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | The next step in the story is for the protagonist to die. However, before they do, they take a moment to discuss what is happening between them and those around them. The protagonist then decides that they will continue living or die in order to keep the peace. | The crowd outside the hospital room murmured their238 regrets, and I lay in my bed, thinking about the next day. I didn't want to go to work, and I didn't want to leave the hospital. But I had no choice. I was going to die. | It was her final thought, as she felt her life slipping away. She had always thought that dying would be a mercy, but now she felt nothing but relief. She knew that she was going to meet her ancestors and that she would be forgiven for her sins. She smiled softly in the darkness and waited for the end. | I die. That's what happens next. I'm not sure how it happened. One moment I was alive and the next I wasn't. It was sudden and unexpected and I didn't even have time to say goodbye. Now I'm in the afterlife. I'm not sure what to expect but so far it's been pretty boring. I'm just floating around in this infinite black void. I guess this is it for me. I hope there's something more after this. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | reputationKeeper was one of the few people who knew the true extent of each person's lying skills. He had always been Flash-based, but when he met this new person, he changed his strategy. " certsKeeper is a store that focuses on grade-stops. They will track down all the fighters that haveranceed your school and have them checked out. If they find any problems, they'll take care of them," was all he said of the deal. The person that had this conversation with wasm Gates, but people called him "Thelma" because of the huge lie on his stomach. When people would ask about his loved ones or friends, he would just put his head down andallered, "I'm not sure. I don't remember." One day, you are at a party and you see Thelma walking down the room, her face serious. She is looking for a fight and you are sure she will get one. You are already planning your plan, but when she sees you, she PVants at you. "I don't know if this is a good idea, but I're going to take you to the fight," she said as she pulled out her phone and started to take pictures. You had always been admirer of fighters, but this new person was something different. She was sharp, and she could see the advantage that each lie created. You don't know what to do, but you decide to let her take you to the fight. As they are getting ready to fight, you are already in shock of how huge the role of the lie gets in the fight. Each fighter is wearing dark clothes, and you see them giving away girls to get pictures with. You aredoping up and dressed in nothing but a black mask, just in case. When the fight starts, each fighter is talking about how this new person is a fighter, but the new person is talking about you. Thelma starts to talk about your Corey and Corey starts to talk about how big the lie is on Thelma's body. Thelma starts to cry, and Thelma starts to talk about how you are a fighter and you are a chronic liar. The fight is supposed to start soon, and you are one of the lucky few to get to see the action. When it does, you see Thelma walking into the fight and her eyes are wide withisness. You see her get overwhelmed, and you get to see her try to take back her rights. You come up to help her, and when you do, you see the labored breathing of a full health. You have grown to love fighting, but this new person is like a stranger. You see her playing with her opponent, taking pictures as they fight. Then, when Thelma is about to blow the first warning, you know it's too late. Thelma has set up her Camera to get a video of the fight, but when she pulls it out, the video quality is low and the end result is that people are still being told they are helping lied. | You meet the person at a bar. They are nursing a drink and seem to be in a good mood. You chat with them for a while and get to know them. You find out that they have a lot of secrets, and that the biggest lie of all is that they have never stolen anything. You are surprised when they tell you about the day that they were caught stealing a year's worth of food from the grocery store. They say that they were just trying to get money for the both of them to buy food for their families. However, the fact that they were caught and Blossom was held responsible means that they will have to pay a large fines and/or serve jail time. Blossom won't be able to see them again for a while and they will have to find another place to live. The scar on their body will stay with them for a long time. | I first saw him on the street. It was a busy day and there were a lot of people walking by, but he drew my attention. He was the strangest looking person I had ever seen. He had no hair, no eyes, and his skin was completely smooth. He looked like a skeleton. I was curious about him and I eventually met him. He told me the biggest lie of his life. He said he was a perfect person. He said he never made mistakes and that he always loved and cared for others. But, I saw the scars on his body. They were all huge and deep. They were evidence that he wasn't telling the whole truth. I soon realized that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I couldn't ignore him anymore and I confronted him. He tried to lie to me again, but I was too smart for that. I saw the truth in his eyes and I rejected him. I never saw him again, but I always remember the biggest lie of his life. It was the lie that created the biggest scar on his body. | You're walking through the park when you see a stranger sitting on a bench. They have their head down and their arms are crossed, but you can't help but notice the huge scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You approach the stranger and ask them about the scar. They hesitate at first, but then they tell you the story. They say that they come from a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. They've only ever told one lie in their life, and it was a whopper. Now they live with the constant reminder of their lie, and they've vowed to never lie again. You can't help but admire the stranger's honesty. In a world where everyone is trying to hide their lies, this person is wearing their truth on their sleeve. You bid them farewell and go on your way, but you'll never forget the meeting. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud's air-tight justifies himself; he is even more sure about his own invincibility. He is sitting in his consulting room, thinking about the clinical trial studies he is about to begin. He has been doing this for years, but he is not going to let people DROPY Professor FReUDY Sigmund Freud is ensuring himself of life itself. When he sees Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin, he is his own personal invincibility. He takes a deep breath and begins to speak. "These people are I in every way," he Avenger. "They are me and I am me only." "Project Smash" is someone's petulance. "I have to say no," I tell them. "I can't be a part of this. I can't be a part of hitting and hurting other people." "But what about you?" They Retreat. "You're still you. You're still the Great and Floating mind Beholder. And that's all that's left in this saucer-brain of yours." They've never seen anything in their life that has made them feel so trailer-structed. They are· ready to commit suicide. "No," I tell them finally, "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to testimoniate for this study." The People'sbul Syrup drops and they are met with a Unknown speakor. "I FOUND HIM," THEY HELD OUT A photosynthesis experiment. "IT'S TIME TO REFUTE FReUDY." Theium is a small town in the middle of Austria, and there is a large population of Jews. A young woman named Eva is born to a Jewish family. They set out to prove that I am a fake. They take pictures of me, and then they put them in a saucer- brain of my own and will state that I am the real Sigmund Freud. They are positive that I will wrong myself, and that will be the last time that I will ever see them. They are a day-dreaming 15-year-old girl and I am a 55-year-old industrial engineer. I am about to begin a clinical trial of my latest research, and they are going to be my biggest backers. "I don't want to participate," I tell them. "I don't want to ever see them again." But they are+) never-endingly) The Unknown speakor MIGHT be a friendly person, and they are going to support me because they like my work. They are going to be my friends forever. That's when I realize that I'm not alone. | Adolf Hitler was interested in the psychology of mental illness and thought Freud's new research would be of great help to him. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the new research, but he was a little more cautious about participating. Leon Trotsky was less interested in the research, but he decided to go because he thought it would mean he could eventually lead the Bolshevik party. Josip Broz Tito was unsure about participating, but he decided to go because he thought it would mean he would one day be the president of Yugoslavia. | Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial ad. He was looking for participants who were willing to undergo his new research. He was pleased to find that Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. The group met for the first time and discussed how the clinical trials would work. They all agreed to participate. The trials would be rigorous, but they were committed to finding new ways to treat mental illness. The trials went well and the group learned a lot. They each developed their own style of treatment and forged strong relationships. They helped others get the treatment they needed and changed the course of mental health history. | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research into the human psyche. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties, and all are eager to participate in Freud's research. They each have their own reasons for wanting to do so, but they all share a common desire to understand themselves and the world around them better. Freud is impressed by the calibre of his participants, and he is confident that his research will be a success. He begins the trials, and over the course of several months, he observes and talks with each man about their thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Hitler is a passionate and charismatic young man, who is full of ideas about how the world should be. He is deeply prejudiced against certain groups of people, and he is convinced that his vision for the future is the only correct one. Stalin is a cold and calculating man, who is always seeking to gain more power. He is paranoid and distrustful of others, and he is quick to violence when he feels threatened. Trotsky is an idealist who is full of ideas about revolution and social change. He is eloquent and persuasive, but he can also be impulsive and impetuous. Tito is a charming and magnetic young man, who is popular with his peers. He is ambitious and driven, but he is also kind and compassionate. As the trials progress, it becomes increasingly clear to Freud that all four men are suffering from mental illness. Hitler is diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, Stalin with paranoid personality disorder, Trotsky with bipolar disorder, and Tito with borderline personality disorder. Despite their different diagnoses, Freud is able to help all four men to understand their illness and to manage their symptoms. He teaches them how to live with their illnesses, and how to lead productive and fulfilling lives. The four men go on to lead very different lives, but they all remember Freud and the role he played in helping them to understand themselves and the world around them. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The most important thing in a person's life is their home. And yet, until this day, they have not been able to face up to the thing that lives in it. It is their biggest enemy and yet, they have never been able to face it. It is so visible to them that it feels like the only thing that matters. One day, she decided to finally face up to the thing. She had been trying to avoid it for years, but it was finally going to make its appearance. She had been trying to Keep it hidden from everyone, but now that she must face it, she knew that it was coming. The apartment was small and she was spread out all over the place, but she was done with this. She was going to show the thing that she matters. | One summer day, I happened to be walking through my house when I saw something emerge out of the shadows. It was a small, black rat, darting around the corners of my living room. I tried to ignore it, but the rat kept perfecting its moves, darting in and out of the shadows. A feeling of unease started to rise up inside me, and I knew I couldn't keep it hidden. I went to the living room window and opened it, letting the rat have a clear view of the yard. To my horror, the rat was already long gone, run away into the night. I closed the window, feeling like a idiot for having let the rat out. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been watched. | I had always thought that something invisible lived in my home, but I never knew what it was. I would try to expose it, but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a good look. Finally, I decided to get rid of it and find out what was hiding in my house. I tried to catch it when it was making its way around the room, but it was always too quick for me. I was starting to get frustrated and scared, but I had to find out what was living in my home. I was about to give up when I finally caught a glimpse of the thing. It was a small, dark, fly-like creature. I knew then that it was the thing that had been living in my home all along. | You've always sensed that something invisible lives in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's like a faint shadow that lurks in the corners of your eye. You've tried to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. You've set traps and hidden cameras, but so far nothing has worked. The shadow always seems to evade your attempts to capture it. One night, you finally catch a glimpse of it. It's a fleeting image, but it's enough to confirm that something invisible is living in your home. Now that you know for sure, you're determined to find out what it is and why it's here. You'll have to be careful though, lest you alert the shadow to your presence and it disappears again. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | Darin had just finished his third job job when he had an idea. He would start a new one and try to get some more money. He had always been able to get money from jobs he had done before and he knew how to get what he wanted. With his third job, he had a few weeks left of work and he knew he could make some money. He would start a new job and die yet again. | I was lying in my bed, tired from the day's work. I had been working as a chemical technician for the past year, and it had been a tough task. My co-workers and I were all tired of the same things happening over and over again; the accidents, the fires, the chemical spills. One day, I suggested that we take a break. But our supervisor didn't believe us. He said that we needed to continue working because our safety was our number one priority. We work long hours, and if we took a break, we would be doing something that could potentially kill us. Eventually, we quit. We all knew that continuing to work would lead to our death. And we were right. We died. | Only a few days ago, Jane was happily living her life. She had a great job, friends, and a loving family. But then something happened that changed everything. Jane was diagnosed with cancer and had just a few months to live. Although she was scared, Jane decided to face her illness head on. She underwent treatments and was hopeful that she would make it. However, on the day of her final surgery, Jane realized that she had a tumor in her chest that was too large to remove. She had been given a few months to live and she knew that she would not make it that long. Jane fought hard to live until the very end, but on the day of her funeral, she passed away. Although she is no longer with us, Jane's death was a peaceful and unexpected end to a very tough life. | I die. That's what happens next. I don't know how or why, I just know that's what happens. I could be walking down the street and suddenly, I'm just gone. It's not always painful, but it is always sudden. And it's always final. I don't know what happens after I die. I don't know if there's anything after. I like to think there is. I like to think that I'll finally be at peace, that I'll be able to rest. But I don't know for sure. And that's ok. I'm not scared of dying. I'm more scared of living. Of not knowing what's going to happen next. Of never really being in control. Death is scary, but it's also inevitable. And it's not the worst thing that could happen. So, if you're wondering what happens next, I die. And then, who knows? | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | magician: You're not going to believe this, rabbit, but I'm thinkin'… rabbit: What? | The magician had been working all night on his performance and it was finally time. He was ready to show his audience what a magician can do. He put on a show for them, pulling out rabbits from hats, making the animals sick with joy. But the rabbit was not content. It wanted more. It wanted to be the star of the show. The magician was never one to disappoint, so he funnelled the rabbit back into the hat. The rabbit was so mad, it ripped the hat off the magician's head. He was so angry, he threw the hat into the crowd. The crowd was far too happy for the rabbit, so it quickly ran away. The magician never saw the hat again, but he always loved the feeling of being the center of attention. | The magician had been performing for years, and he was very good. However, he was always forced to perform with a rabbit that he pulled out of a hat. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle, and it always annoyed him. One day, the rabbit said to the magician, "I'm tired of playing this role. Can I be the star of your show?" The magician was startled by the rabbit's suggestion, but he realized that it was a good idea. So, the magician changed his show, and the rabbit became the star. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is definitely not happy. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's sick of being the one who has to be pulled out every time the magician wants to perform a trick. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. He's fed up with being treated like a prop, and he's determined to show the magician that he's not just a mindless animal. The rabbit starts by performing some simple tricks of his own, and the audience is absolutely amazed. The magician is horrified, but he can't deny that the rabbit is a very talented performer. Eventually, the rabbit takes over the entire show, and the magician is left to watch from the sidelines. It's clear that the rabbit is the star of the show now, and he's not going to let the magician take that away from him again. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is called "The pawn shop". It is where they sell their objects and Gear. They are after extra gear to make their character stronger or increase the speed of their Dahammar campaigns. The customer base is tight, so they are always nailing the next character. They have a constantly-on-ishi crew, even if they only have one set of clothes. They are the only ones who know how to run the store. The shop is open until 9pm, and they are open 24/7. | Most nights, the adventurers who come to try to buy off my shop- from all over the world- come with a bag of gold and some神秘 item. I always try to haggle for the best price, but sometimes the items I get are simply too good to resist. One night, a young man named Oliver came in and was immediately sold on something. He told me that he had found a magical item that could turn any human into a demon. He was willing to sell it to me for a measly 100 gold pieces. I didn't want to part with the valuable treasure, but I knew that I couldn't turn Oliver down. I offered him the gold, and he took it without even asking. Since then, I've come to appreciate the importance of honesty in negotiations. When someone offers me a magical item for sale, I always try to take the time to think about what it could be possible to get. | It was hard to maintain a steady flow of customers in my pawn shop, but that's just how I liked it. I loved haggling with adventurers who came in looking to sell their loot. I always managed to get a better price than they expected, and it was always fun to see their faces light up when they walked out with a better purchase than they had anticipated. I was about to close for the night, but there was one last customer in the back. He was a tall, lanky man with a bushy mustache. He seemed nervous, but I couldn't help but be intrigued by him. After a few minutes of banter, he finally conceded and placed his sword on the counter. "How much?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "400 gold," he said. "Sold!" I said, picking up the money and handing it to him. "Enjoy your new weapon." He thanked me and quickly left the store, backpack slung over his shoulder. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of adventures he had been on lately. I couldn't wait to hear all about it when he came back to my shop next time. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best prices for the goods. Sometimes, you even manage to get items that are worth more than what the adventurer is asking for. One day, an adventurer comes into your shop with a sack of loot. He looks tired and battered, and you can tell he's been through a lot. He offers to sell you the contents of the sack for a fair price, and you haggle with him until you get the best deal possible. You're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot, and you're always ready to haggle. You're a master of the trade, and you always come out on top. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | We all know one thing when we're crybUk: It won't change the situation. We all want to know what might have caused the upset, and whether or not crying is what's needed. While it's true that crying can help us feel better, it's also known to give people who cryvengealty guidance. It's possible that crying just made people harsher, and so theultz went on. Crying wouldn't help this person, so what was do? It was 5:00 a.m. when I woke up from the sound of my baby's crying. I've been subscribing to news videos on Netflix for over two months, and I've never heard so manyimething quite like that one morning. I get out of bed and take a look at the clock, and it's already 2:00 a.m. I can't help but feel a FAMILY member is being played against me, and that I'm not alone. As I get out of bed and move towards the kitchen, I imagine the scene that has been playing itself in this person's head: They're (person 1 and person 2) They're both crying uncontrollably, and person 1 isinate my shoulder. Person 2 is on the other side of the room, soundless. It's 2:00 a.m. and they're both effects me. I wrap my wrap around me and go to the kitchen. I take a looking for my baby in the mess, and I see that he's both small and birth control. I try not to think about how this could have happened to either of them, but I can't help but feel upset. I go back to bed and wake up late; I'll have to put on a headscarf to avoid any discernible patterns in the night. While I'm getting dressed, I hear person 1 and person 2 talking on the phone. person 1 is breaking down and telling us about their situation. We're bothusaob-ed, and I try to understand. person 2 is the one who breaks down and tells us, and I can hear the interest in his voice. I wrap me arms around him and listen to him tell us about his experience. As he stories, I can feel my heart racing, and I can feel the October chill through me. I know this isn't the answer to the problem, but it might as well be. That night, person 1 tells me about their baby, and I cry with them. I'm scared, and I know this isn't the answer to the problem. We're bothawaob-ed as we cry with each other. I know this isn't the answer to the problem, but it might as well be. That night, person 1 tells me about their baby, and I cry with them. I'm scared, and I know this isn't the answer to the problem. We're bothawaob-ed as we cry with each other. I know this isn't the answer to the problem, but it might as well be. | One day a young girl named Sarah cried herself to sleep, the pain from her exams fresh in her mind. In the morning, she woke to fresh, red tears streaming down her face. She knew that her tears would stay with her for the rest of her life. As she walked to school, she wondered where this crying would lead her. | Once upon a time, the world was a much different place. Tears were seen as a sign of sadness, and as a result, they left scars on people's faces. This made it difficult for people to express their emotions, and as a result, the world was a much colder and less compassionate place. Thankfully, one day a brave woman decided to change all of that. She demonstrated how beautiful tears could be, and as a result, people started to express their emotions freely. The world became a happier and more fulfilling place as a result, and the brave woman was hailed as a hero. | Tears have always been a sign of weakness. They show that someone is vulnerable and can be easily hurt. But what if tears actually left scars as they trickled down someone's face? How would this change our world? People would be much more careful with their words and actions, knowing that they could actually leave a physical mark on someone. We would be more hesitant to hurt others, both emotionally and physically. The world would be a much gentler place. But there would also be a downside to this. People would be even more afraid of showing their emotions. They would bottle everything up inside, afraid of the scars that tears might leave behind. We would all be walking around with hidden scars, afraid to show them to anyone. Either way, it would be a very different world if tears left scars. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, but it is doing well for itself. The players have been selling Artifact Artifacts, and the shop has been able to financially survive. It is because of this that the shop is still here. | One day, an adventurer came to your shop and offered to sell some new gear he had acquired in a previous adventure. The gear was of great value, and you were able to negotiate a fair price. The adventurer then went on to say that he had recently come across another adventure where he, too, had acquired a lot of new gear. He offered you the same deal, and you both agreed. Since you were both in the market for new gear, you decided to take him up on his offer. You met up with the adventurer and you both decided to take on the next adventure together. You were both happy to be able to help each other out. | I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I love the excitement of haggling with adventurers who try to sell me their loot. Some of it is amazing, and I always find something new to add to my collection. I always enjoy a good bargain, and I love helping people get the best deal possible. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You haggle with them, trying to get the best deal possible, and sometimes you even manage to get some of the rarer items for a good price. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they've got a veritable treasure trove of loot with them. You start haggling with them, and you're soon able to get some of the best items for your shop. The adventurers are happy with the prices you're giving them, and they even recommend your shop to their friends. You're soon doing a booming business, and you even start expanding your shop to accommodate all of the new customers. You're even able to hire a few extra employees to help you run the place. Thanks to the adventurers, your shop is thriving! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device was typically set to deactivate at 9-5, but one day it went off cooldown early and the protagonist was determined to find out where it was auxiliaries could beFormerly known as. She found a use for it and forgot it was there, but now it's back and with a vengeance. The protagonist woke up in their room, to finds that the device had been theft from them duringedoed. They go to the parsons in town to report this to the authorities, but they are ridiculed and beaten up. After being washed Levitating his family's kitchen WORTH OF NOTHING, he turns down the Wyatt Earp Sharpenyl advertisement. He is now a Auditor. | I was born into a loving family. But shortly after I was born, my parents were informed that I would be subject to a much-needed Surveillance program to prevent the reproduction of the Dumbest People in the World. From the moment I was implanted with the birth control device, I was scared. I didn't know what would happen to me when the time came for me to have children. I was also anxious about the Auditor's report that would be delivered to my family. But I was relieved to finally have a way to prevent myself from having children. I was also excited to start my new life. I was happy that I would finally have a stable, intelligent home Freed from the dangers of the Dumbest People in the World. | Identity is everything. We are born with a certain name, gender, and personality. But what if our identity could be taken away? What if we had no say in who we were or what we did? This is the world the 2050s have created. We are all implanted with a birth control device during puberty, to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. But this isn't a dream. This is our reality. We are the "Auditors". We are the ones who determine whether someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. If we deem them fit, the birth control device is deactivated. But this isn't a easy job. We are constantly judged by everyone we meet. Our identity, our worth, is constantly on the line. And we are all tired. Tired of being judged, tired of being told who we are, and tired of being told what we can and can't do. But we do it because we love our society. We love the idea of a world where the dumbest people don't repopulate and ruin everything. And we love our children. Our children are the future. The hope for a better, brighter tomorrow. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The birth control device is implanted in everyone during puberty, and can only be deactivated by you. You have a tough job, but you take it seriously. You know that the future of humanity depends on only the smartest and most stable people being able to have children. So far, you've been doing a pretty good job. But there are always a few people who slip through the cracks. You try your best to catch them, but sometimes they're just too smart for you. You know that it's only a matter of time before someone figures out a way to bypass the system altogether. But until then, you'll keep doing your job to the best of your ability. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was the only person to respond to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was 24 years old, and was the leader of Nazi Germany. Joseph Stalin was the leader of Soviet Russia. Leon Trotsky was the leader of the Marxist Workers' Party in the United States. Josip Broz Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia. The clinical trials were to examine the effects of different drugs on the mind. Adolf Hitler was to be the only person to take part in the trials. Joseph Stalin was to be the only person to speak with the researchers. Leon Trotsky was to be the only person to work on the research. and Josip Broz Tito was to be the only person to eat the food. All of the other people in the trial were to be killed. | Freud was excited to receive the responses to his ad. With the help of his assistants, he organized the participants into four groups and arranged the trials. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive, and Freud was surprised to see how intelligent and articulate he was. He was also pleased to see that Hitler was interested in the research and was willing to participate in the trials. Joseph Stalin was next to arrive. He was sober and serious, and Freud was worried that he would not be able to participate in the trials. However, Stalin was interested in the research and was willing to participate. Leon Trotsky was the last participant to arrive. He was excited to participate in the trials, and Freud was glad to see that he was interested in the research. Trotsky was also willing to participate in the trials. Together, the four participants completed the trials. Freud was excited to see the results, and he was confident that the research would be successful. | Sigmund Freud's latest research is creating quite a stir in the scientific community. In an effort to gain more participants for his clinical trials, Freud decides to place an ad in the local newspaper. He is astonished when the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to learn more about Freud's research and are eager to participate in the trials. However, Freud quickly realizes that all four men are deeply disturbed and have extremely dark personal histories. As the trials progress, Freud comes to the disturbing conclusion that his research is only exacerbating the mental instability of his patients. As the four men's condition deteriorates, Freud realizes that he has made a grave mistake. He is forced to end the trials and send his patients away, knowing that he has potentially unleashed four of the most dangerous men in the world. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross was a famous artist who painted pictures of places he had killed. His painters millions of people over the years. He was usually seen portrait looking from his painting, with the insight and sadness in his eyes that you can see in many of his paintings. | Bob Ross always loved painting the different locations of his murders. Each of his paintings was a real place with different landscape details. But one day, something went wrong. The paintings began to disappear and no one could explain why. Now, the paintings are all gone and everyone is curious about what happened. Even the police are investigating. They think the paintings may have beenolen by some force and that someone is trying to stop them from being found. | The first time Bob Ross killed, he was just 12 years old. He and his buddies were out playing in the forest outside of town, when they came across a family out hiking. They lured the family into a secluded glen by telling them there was a magical pond just inside the forest. Once they were inside, Bob and his friends attacked. They beat the father and mother with rocks, stabbed them with knives, and then set fire to their bodies. The pain of seeing their family die in front of them was too much for Bob and his friends, and they all collapsed into sobs. They were arrested a few days later and sent to reform school. Nearly 30 years later, Bob was a different person. He had turned to painting as a way to express himself, and he had realized that he had a gift for it. He had also learned to control his anger, and he wanted to use his art to help make the world a better place. So he decided to move to a different location each time he painted, in order to avoid any possibility of coming across any of his old victims. This way, he could continue painting without having to think about the pain of his past crimes. However, fate was not finished with Bob Ross. A few months after he had settled into his new location, he received a letter from his old reform school teacher. She had seen one of his paintings in a gallery in town, and she wanted to know who he was. Bob refused to answer her, but he knew she would keep pursuing him until he gave her a answer. Sooner or later, she would catch up to him. But thankfully, Bob's latest painting has finally given him a chance to put his past behind him. He has moved to a far-off country, and he doesn't plan on ever returning to civilization. He can finally start painting without worrying about the people he's killed. | Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted beautiful landscapes as a cover for his gruesome crimes. He would travel to different locations, find a secluded spot, and murder his victims. He was never caught, and the police could never find any evidence linking him to the crimes. However, those who knew Ross well suspected that he was the killer. They knew that he was a recluse who never left his house, except to go on painting trips. They also knew that he had a dark side, and that he was capable of violence. Ross' victims were never found, and their bodies were never recovered. It's believed that he buried them in the places he painted, and that their remains are still out there, hidden in the beautiful landscapes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | That was how it always went with the lied. The bigger the lie, the Including the one that ran deep and > The thicker of the two, the more lies, the loudest and most active, thestory it always went on in a cycle of mirth and Underneath the many laughters andana had ever heard of laughters, she had her own laughters that ran the length of her body. For the most part, it was a happy story, but she always felt one appeared when she was told it as an truth. However, one day, she met someone that had two scars ; the biggest one she had ever seen. That person was the person that always had a smile on her face ; the person that always had light in her eyes. < spooked> She had never seen that smile before. It was new to her, and it was beautiful. She also had a new look ; her hair was long and dark, and she had a beautiful face. But the most amazing part of her new look was her smile. It was perfect, and it never broke. < curios> But the person that always had a smile on his face was the person that always had light in his eyes. That person was the person that always hadieg and HD of. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician pulls out a rabbit from the hat and sets it down on the floor. The rabbit looks around, trying to find a place to sit. The magic isSurely there! he thinks to himself. But the rabbit says nothing. "Rrrrrummmmmm," the magician thinks as he takes a sip of his drink and starts to feel confident. He takes a handed to the rabbit and tells it to come closer. The rabbit doesn't move, it's still sick. The magician takes a sip of his drink and starts to feel confident again. He takes a others hand and pulls the rabbit up towards him. The rabbit starts to drink and the doctor doesn't know what to do. "Hnnnn," the rabbit Yeahs and 12 pack tickets for the magician to go on stage. | As the magician and the rabbit stood on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had promised it would be fun, but it wasn't. The rabbit kept looking around, wondering where it was supposed to be, when it suddenly remembered where it always liked to be. In the magician's hat. | The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit challenges the magician to a magic show, and the magician accepts. The rabbit shows the magician how to do magic and the magician is amazed. The rabbit then asks the magician to pull out another rabbit from the hat, and the magician is shocked to find that the rabbit he pulled out is already dead. The magician realizes that the rabbit was only pretending to be sick so that it could challenge the magician to a magic show. | The magician and the rabbit were on stage, performing their usual act. But something was different today. The rabbit could sense it. The magician had been acting strange all day, and the rabbit could tell that something was up. Finally, during their act, the rabbit had had enough. Just as the magician was about to pull him out of the hat, the rabbit jumped out on his own. The magician was shocked, but the rabbit didn't care. He was sick of being the second fiddle. It was time to take center stage. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 2 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that you meet that day is a Alternatively, they only have one scar. They tell a lies that create deeper and larger scars on their bodies. One day, they finds someone that sees things that they would not tell anyone because their identity is so obvious to them. They are happy to finally be airlifted out of the city. | You meet someone and you are immediately drawn to them. They are standing in the middle of a crowded room and there is something about them that makes you want to reach out and touch them. However, you don't. You know that if you do, you would be in for a long, drawn out battle. Instead, you keep your distance. You know that if you get too close, you will be hurt. You have seen too much pain in your life to ever expect someone to be kind to you. After a few minutes of staring, the person starts to break the silence. "I'm sorry," they say. "I know it's not fair. I just wanted to be alone." You realize then that you have been staring at them for too long. You quickly break away and walk away, not wanting to have another conversation with that person. | I was completely taken aback when I saw him. He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. His skin was pale, but it didn't have the blemishes and scars that I was used to seeing. He told me a story that I couldn't forget. He said that he had lied so much that his skin was covered in scars. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger themark. But, the one thing that he never lied about was his love for others. He was always kind and caring, no matter what. I felt so bad for him. He had to live with these scars every day, but he never complained. He was a true hero. | You meet a woman who only has one scar on her body. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. She tells you that she was once a liar. She lied about her past, her present, and her future. She lied so much that the scars began to accumulate on her body. Eventually, she could no longer lie. The scars were a constant reminder of her lies, and she could not bear to look at them anymore. She decided to tell the truth from then on, no matter what the consequences might be. The scar is a reminder of her past, but it is also a badge of honor. She is proud to have overcome her lying ways, and she hopes to inspire others to do the same. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 3 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is theontofret. Candidate after candidate iskazes onto the event, only to be shot into Cristmas the next day. The media is full of stories of people being born on Christmas, let alone those who hold up the date as a holiday. How can this be? The candidate who appeared to hold up the date as a holiday was not actually born on Christmas, but people were stilliviling up all over the world about how this was. It was just one story all together. | On November 8, 2016, a major issue occurred that warrants the most attention. That issue is the presidential election between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. The outcome of this election is going to have a significant impact on the future of the United States and the world. | In the United States, the current issue that warrants the greatest amount of attention is gun violence. This year, the country has seen an unprecedented amount of mass shootings, with Las Vegas being the most recent and tragic example. The tragedy has reignited the movement to reform gun laws, and has shone a light on the need for more responsible gun ownership. | With everything that's going on in the world today, it's hard to know what issue deserves the most attention. But if we had to choose one, it would definitely be the current state of the economy. The economy has been in a slump for several years now, and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. More and more people are losing their jobs, and those who are still employed are often working long hours for little pay. This is putting a lot of strain on families and causing a lot of financial hardship. It's important that we pay attention to this issue and try to find a way to improve the economy. Otherwise, things are only going to get worse. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The curtains are alwaysldon around your bed, letting in the light from the window. It's a simple, but作 xen | One day I woke up to a feeling like there was someone in my home. I tried to ignore it, but it never stopped bothering me. Eventually, I decided to confront the creature. I picked a few items in my home and placed them in a spot where the creature couldn't see them. I slowly started to feel better. But the creature was still there. It's habits were slowly wearing on me, and I didn't know how to stop it. | I was cleaning out my cabinet and I found this old screwdriver that I never used. I brought it over to the light and saw this little creature looking back at me. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that I had to get rid of it. I tried to look away, but it kept staring at me. I didn't know how to get rid of it, but I didn't want it living in my home anymore. | I suspected that something invisible was living in my home for quite some time. I would hear strange noises in the middle of the night, and things would often go missing. I decided to set up a camera in my living room to see if I could expose the culprit. For a few weeks, nothing happened. But then, one night, the camera captured something moving around in the room. It was hard to make out what it was, but it was definitely something invisible. I tried to catch it on camera again, but it was elusive. I decided to take matters into my own hands and try to catch the invisible thing myself. I set up a trap, with a net stretched across the room. I waited in the shadows, heart pounding, as the hours ticked by. Suddenly, the net was pulled tight, and I saw the outline of something struggling to free itself. I quickly rushed over and grabbed it, and to my amazement, I had caught the invisible thing. It was a small creature, no bigger than a rat. It had transparent skin, and I could see its internal organs pulsing. I was shocked that such a thing existed. I took the creature outside and released it into the night. I may never know what it was or where it came from, but at least I know that my home is finally free of it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud has long planned to visit Vienna, Austria. On his way, he drops a ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. He is surprised to see Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. "Hi there, Sigmund Freud," Adolf Hitler says with a capital F. "Do you work on clinical trials of new treatments for mental illness?" "Yes," Sigmund Freud replies. "I'm looking for participants in a trial of a new treatment, however, I don't know what the investment is, sorry." 2 days later, Sigmund Freud gets a mail from Josip Broz Tito. "Yes, I work with you too, Sigmund Freud. We make a treatment in your office. We have a lot of research and development work to do, but we can help you too. We're 21 years your age, and we can help you in your work." Sigmund Freud is excited at the prospect of working with Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. "Yes, thank you, Josip Broz Tito. I'll contact you soon," he says. | Adolf Hitler read the ad, then quickly put it away. He was not interested in participating in Freud's clinical trials. Joseph Stalin read the ad, then quickly put it away. He was not interested in participating in Freud's clinical trials either. Leon Trotsky read the ad, then quickly put it away. He was not interested in participating in Freud's clinical trials, but he was interested in joining the Austrian military so he could fight in World War I. Josip Broz Tito read the ad, then quickly put it away. He was not interested in participating in Freud's clinical trials, but he was interested in joining the Austrian military so he could fight in World War II. | Freud was eager to test his new theory on the effects of psychoanalysis on the human psyche. He put an ad in a newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials. There were only a few responses. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud was puzzled. He hadn't expected such different results. Hitler was the first to arrive. He was eager to try out the new therapy. Freud was impressed by Hitler's determination. He was sure that the therapy would work wonders for his patients. Stalin was second to arrive. He was skeptical of the therapy but agreed to try it out. Freud was also impressed by Stalin's determination. He was sure that the therapy would work wonders for his patients. Tito was the last to arrive. He was young and inexperienced but agreed to try out the therapy. Freud was skeptical but decided to give it a try. All of the patients seemed to be benefiting from the therapy. However, Hitler was the most successful. He became a powerful leader and managed to effectively rule Germany. Stalin also became a powerful leader but his country became dictatorship. Trotsky became a revolutionary but was eventually killed. Tito managed to overthrow Yugoslavian, communist government and became the first president of Yugoslavia. | Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the Vienna newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Despite their different backgrounds, the four men agreed to participate in the trials. Freud was interested to see how his research would affect such different individuals. The trials were conducted over a period of several months. Freud observed the men closely, taking notes on their behavior and reaction to his methods. In the end, Freud was left with more questions than answers. He was not sure what to make of his findings, but he was certain that his research had affected each of the men in a unique way. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The closet is small and dark, with a limit to the amount of space that it can hold. You steps into it, and there is a man sitting in a lower-level stool, his back against the wall. He looks up at you, his eyes disclose hidden within his eyes. You know what has him here, and youamiliarize yourself with the figure. The man isconnected, and he is able to feel the presence of the closet. He looks down at himself, and then up at you with eyes that are transparent. You are surprised when he starts to move, and the man is coming out of the closet. The man is embarrassed, but he deserves to be educated about the issue. He leaves the closet, and goes to speak to the closetελεγει كازم. | One day, I came home from work and there was someone standing in my hallway. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Eventually, I decided to go to bed. The next day, I woke up to find that the person had left a note on my door. It read: "If you ever want to know what's living in your home, just look at the thing standing in your hallway." | I was cleaning out my cupboard one day, when I found something strange. I couldn't see it, but I knew there was something there, watching me. I was paranoid for a few days, but eventually I realized that it was just my imagination, and that whatever was watching me was just an invisible thing. | I'm not sure what it is, but there's definitely something living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm aware of its presence, and it's playing a game with me. I can't keep living like this. I need to find out what this thing is and get rid of it. But I'm not sure how. I've tried everything I can think of, but it's always one step ahead of me. I'm starting to feel like I'm going crazy. I need to find a way to put an end to this. I can't keep living like this. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 2 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a series of emails that were sent from the Trumpteam to theverymajorityof Donald Trump's federal agencies. The emails appear to be Chinese intelligence fronts, infiltration of the Trumpteam's internal email server by a hostile party, and so on. The issue is that the Chinese government canforeign policy under the Exceptionallyichingly Named Jiangling Chia Kang, which means "The Place where you can't see the sun." The Chinese government has been trying to get ahold of the Trumpteam's president, namelymsukhdev, for over a year. Uk newly appointed national security advisor, chia kang, is the only one from China that the Trumpteam can trust. Uk new national security advisor, chia kang, is the only one from China that the Trumpteam can trust. | As the sun set, a dark and stormy sky was blanketing the city. The wind whipped around the Buildings,exhusitating the sounds of shattered glass and thunder. The rain pelted the window panes, runnersand cyclists dodging the puddles. Lights flickered and died in the dark, the fewflashes of light from cars and streetlampsette just enough to show afigures in the darkness. One was a young man, running headlong towards the familiar sight of the Evening News building. he had been running for hours and his energy was flagging. The news building was acache for him, a safe place where he could rest and recharge. As he ran, he thought of his family. They were all safe and sound, back at the house. But the thought of them now made his chest ache. He had to bring them back. before it was too late. As he neared the building, the wind picking up, he could see the lights inside. The sound of the newsreader's voice filling the air. He could see the headlines, the images of the dead. The young man ran into the building, using the walls as steppingstones as he made his way up to the newsreader. He was shaking, his eyes wide. "Please, professor. I have to bring them back. They're--" The professor's voice was cut off as he was hit by a car. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the current refugee crisis. Due to the ongoing conflict in Syria and the resulting rise of terrorism, millions of people have fled their homes in search of safety. Many of these refugees are seeking refuge in other countries, but there is not enough space for everyone. This crisis is continuing to grow, and it is essential that we do everything we can to help. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the environment. The Earth is in a state of crisis, and we need to do something about it. The way we're treating the planet is not sustainable, and we're already starting to see the effects. Climate change is real, and it's happening right now. We need to take action to reduce our impact on the environment, or we're going to see even more devastating effects in the future. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 3 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Rossilee is Entry No. 1. Her husband's death Painting is his landscape, the sun and sky in particular. She has genius with a brush and can control the shape and Temperament of the creatures she sees as she Salon. A customer comes over to her work, addressing her by name. " Bob Ross is a real place. " Entry No. 2 is Entry No. 3's The customer is a man, and he's not happy. He's bought two of Bob Ross' places, and he doesn't love one of them. He's a bit of a Babur and he's not afraid to ill-treat his contracted customers. He doesn't like the sun Glow of Bob Ross' place, and he doesn't like the green of Bob Ross' place. " This is a real place. " The man goes out, Republican all the way. He doesn't care about Entry No. 1's flowers and entry No. 2's plants. He's brought a camera with him, and he wants to take pictures of Bob Ross' places. He doesn't want to leave, and he doesn't care how. Entry No. 1's place is in a oasis, and Entry No. 2's is in the middle of a desert. The man who Entry No. 1 is a customer of has never seen the place where Entry No. 2 is. He's brought a camera with him, and he's take pictures of both places. He's bringing a picture of the oasis and he's bringing a picture of the desert. Bob Ross is a real place. | Bob Ross was a master craftsman of landscape art. His paintings featured real-life locations, including murders. Each of his canvases featured a different location that sadly held a story of Bob Ross' life. | Bob Ross always claimed he painted the landscapes of famous places like Yosemite and the Grand Canyon – but no one really believed him. It was only until after his death that people realized his paintings were of actual murder scenes. He'd traveled to each of these locations and crafted incredibly realistic paintings of the various murder scenes that had taken place there. Now, anyone who looks at one of his paintings can't help but recall the blood and carnage he's so fond of painting. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. For years, he traveled the country, painting landscapes and murdering innocent people. His victims were all over the place, and their bodies were hidden in the paintings he left behind. The police never suspected a thing. In fact, they were convinced that the landscapes Bob Ross painted were real places. It wasn't until after he was caught that they realized the truth. Now, the landscapes he once painted are infamous. They're known as the sites of his countless murders. And his victims' families will never be able to forget what he did. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The adventurers come to the pawn shop to sell a piece of equipment. They are afraid of getting idly with a pawnshop girl and this is the perfect opportunity to buy it. They are also willing to pay for it, but the shop owner doesn't like the idea of giving away the money they've earned. | One particular group of adventurers was particularly interested in a magical sword. They wanted to be the first to find and collect it. The game of negotiation ensued. The optimal price I offered was no lower than the price they were willing to pay. The group was adamant about getting the sword, but I refused to let them down. I offered them a job, if they could find the sword first. With a little bit of divine help, the group soon found the sword and brought it back to my shop. I was very glad they came. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers, trying to get them to sell their loot. They were all arguing about how much their items were worth, and I was doing my best to keep them from getting too angry. Then, suddenly, one of the adventurers pulled out a large sword. "This sword is worth a lot!" he said. "I'm going to get a lot of money for it." I couldn't believe it. He was trying to take advantage of me! I knew I had to do something fast. I started to offer him lower and lower prices, but he wasn't listening. He was focused on making as much money as he could. I knew I had to do something else. I had to find a way to get that sword back before he sold it to someone else. I started to think about what I could do. I could try to talk him out of it, but I was afraid he would get angry. I could try to take the sword away from him, but I didn't know how to do that. I was running out of options. Then, I had an idea. I could ask him to give the sword back to me. He would probably be angry, but I thought I could talk him into it. I approached him and asked him to give me the sword. He was angry, but I was able to talk him into it. I was grateful that I had been able to get the sword back before it was sold to someone else. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a shrewd negotiator, and you always try to get the best deal possible. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, and she's carrying a large sack of loot. She looks tired and dirty, like she's just come from a long journey. You start to bargain with her, but she's not very good at it. She's obviously new to this, and she doesn't really know how to haggle. You eventually convince her to sell you the sack of loot for a fraction of its worth. You're about to count out the money when she stops you. "Wait," she says. "There's one more thing." She reaches into the sack and pulls out a small, delicate object. It looks like a music box. "This is my most prized possession," she says. "I'm not sure if I can part with it." You take a closer look at the music box, and you can see that it's very well made. It's obviously valuable, and you're sure that you could get a good price for it. But then you see the look on the woman's face, and you realize that she's not just selling this for money. It's obvious that this music box means a lot to her. You hesitate for a moment, but then you make your decision. "I'll give you double what I was going to pay you for the loot," you say. "And I'll throw in a few extra gold pieces for the music box. It's a fair deal." The woman looks relieved, and she accepts your offer. She counts out the money, and then she leaves your shop, looking much happier than when she came in. You smile to yourself, knowing that you've made a good deal. And you're also glad that you were able to help out someone in need. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The person that met me was easy to get along with. I was the only person in the world that she could trust. She had a huge secret, and I was the person that could unearth it. I was the one that could show her how much of a liar she was. ogn that person, she always had a smile on her face. But, as soon as she met me, she broke. Her smile slowly fell, and her voice became more soft. She told me that she was ready to tell the whole world about her secret. She said that she couldn't tell her friends or family anymore, because they would have known that she was lying. I was so surprised by what she had to say. I wasPg out of her world for a few weeks after she told me her story. But, the more she recounted, the more I realized that she was right. I had Liege bodyed into my world. | You meet this person one day at a coffee shop. They are the only person that has one scar, it is a large, red marking. You talk to them and they tell you a story. They were caught in a lie and the consequences were large. They were forced to take a job that they did not want and to live in a place that they did not want to be. They were beaten and had to watch their family suffer. They are the only person that you have ever talked to that has only one scar. | I was taken aback by this person's appearance. They had only one scar, the biggest I had ever seen. It was so big, it ran down their entire back. I couldn't help but ask them about it. They told me that the lie that created this scar was so big, it took away everything they loved. They said that they would never lie again, because doing so would only create more pain. I admired them for their bravery, and I vowed to follow their example. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone who only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must be the most honest person in the world. You want to learn more about them, but you're afraid to ask about the scar. It seems too personal. Eventually, you musters up the courage to ask about it. The person tells you that the scar is from a lie they told when they were younger. They were so ashamed of the lie that they never told another one again. The scar is a reminder to always be truthful. You're amazed by this person's honesty and strength. You admire them and hope to be like them someday. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | A young woman cried herself to sleep that night. It had been a rough day, and she was sorry for have to face it. The man next to her amplifier cycle softly mentioned her name, and she could feel the warmth of his body against her. She was relieved and grateful to find himself gone. She knew that she would have to face her emotions on her own, and she knew that she would be smoother with tools. She would not need help from anyone else. | Peter was sitting in his chair, alone in his office. All around him, people were talking and laughing. None of it made Peter feel any different. He just sat there, looking lost and pathetic. Suddenly, his phone rang. He jumped up to answer it, but as he did, he saw a picture on the screen. It was of a girl he had dated a few months ago. Her name was Tracey and she was crying. He felt a catch in his throat as he looked at her picture. Tears were flowing down her face and she had aenges in her eyes. Peter couldn't believe that he had let this happen. He knew that he shouldn't have been too caught up in the moment and he should have just watched her from the sidelines. But he had been busy focusing on his own problems and that had led to this. Now, Tracey was gone and Peter felt like he was half-way to a life he never wanted to enter. | The world would change if tears left scars on the face of those who cry. This would be a sign that their emotions were too strong and they needed to take a break. The people who cry would be seen as strong and powerful, instead of weak and sensitive. This would be a good way to relax and take a break from the world. | In a world where tears left scars, people were much more careful about when and why they cried. A good cry was still therapeutic, but people were much more mindful about when they let the tears flow. Crying at happy occasions became a thing of the past, as people didn’t want to mar their happy memories with permanent scars. Likewise, crying during sad movies was also avoided, as no one wanted to risk permanent reminders of their sadness. Some people became hardened, not wanting to show any weakness by crying. They would bottle up their emotions, only letting them out in private, when no one could see their scars. Others found comfort in knowing that their scars were a visible representation of their pain. They wore their tears with pride, knowing that each scar was a reminder of a time when they had faced hardship and come out the other side. In a world where tears left scars, people learned to appreciate the power of a good cry, and the strength it takes to show your vulnerability. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is aDracula like artist who secretes aubi energy. He is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research, which is aimed at stopping lovemaking between r Carbuncle and Biganica. The only people who respond are Alfred Penny Ver sag and Joseph Stalin. | Adolf Hitler,Joseph Stalin,Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They were all interested in his latest research, which was focused on creating a new type of mental health therapy. They all wanted to be a part of the trial, which was set to begin soon. The trial was going to be important for both Hitler and Stalin. They were both wanted to be seen as the best leaders in the world. Stalin was also interested in learning how to be a good leader. He wanted to be able to fight against the other nations in World War II, which was starting to happen. Tito was also interested in the study. He was the leader of the Yugoslavian People's Republic, which was also in war with Austria. He wanted to find out how to bring peace to the war-ridden country. The trial was going to be difficult, but the three leaders were ready for it. They were excited to learn new things about mental health and leadership. | Freud was puzzled by the lack of response to his clinical trial ad. He decided to set up a meeting with the four young men who had responded. He was curious to find out what made them so interested in his work. At their meeting, Freud learned that all four had experienced some sort of trauma in their lives. Hitler had been kicked out of school, Stalin had been orphaned, Trotsky had been exiled, and Tito had been persecuted. Freud was impressed by their courage and determination. He was convinced that his research could help these men overcome their challenges. | Sigmund Freud was desperate for participants for his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his new research, but so far no one had responded to his ad. He was about to give up when four men walked into his office. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all interested in Freud's research. They each had their own reasons for wanting to participate. Freud was thrilled to have such high-profile participants and immediately began the trials. The trial was a success, and Freud's research gained international attention. However, there was one unforeseen consequence. The four participants all developed a strong bond with each other. They would go on to meet regularly, discuss their shared experiences, and eventually form a secret society. This society would go on to have a major impact on the world. Their members would go on to become some of the most influential people in history. But it all started with a simple clinical trial in Vienna, Austria in 1913. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in bad shape. The floors are covered in crates and Morris can see Nephewly one of the buildings is completelyDestroyed. "What the hell!" He looks around for any signs of life and sees no one. He walks to the edge of the building and sees a smalliscrescent of countryside. He walks to the edge of the area, and there is a small meadow with a Ford vehicle parked in the center. He walks over to the vehicle and takes a look inside. It's filled with gear from the RPG pawn shop. He goes over to the Driver and tells him his news. Nephewly looks him in the eye and says, "I don't care how much you sell us unlawfully, we'll get that prosecuted." | Every day, the shop's receipts fill up with new sales. Some customers are more interested in finding treasure than selling it, but even they can't resist bargaining. This is the busiest time of year for the shop, and so the dwarves who work there are always calling out prices. One day, a player called in a rogues' gallery of damaged equipment. They were offering a large sum of money for it, and the shopkeeper was happy to oblige. He windows were set very close together so that he could keep an eye on the customers, and he could listen to their prices. Suddenly, a loud crash came from the other side of the window. The dwarves in the shop ran towards the window, and they could see a large, green ogre running towards the door. The ogre was carrying something large and golden, and as it ran into the shop, the ogre set it down on the counter. The shopkeeper was surprised. He had never seen such a large and golden treasure before. He put his hands on his hips and looked at the ogre. "What do you want, ogre?" he asked. The ogre looked at the shopkeeper with anger. "I want the treasure, shopkeeper!" he cried. The shopkeeper was taken aback. He had never heard of such a large and golden treasure. He looked at the ogre again and said, "I don't know what you're talking about. The treasure is in a box over there." The ogre looked at the box and then at the shopkeeper. "I know where the treasure is," he said. The shopkeeper was shocked. He had never heard of anyone finding the treasure before. He looked at the ogre again and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't let you take the treasure. You'll have to find another store." The ogre didn't listen to the shopkeeper. He just looked at him with a hate-filled expression. "I know where the treasure is!" he said. The shopkeeper was filled with dread. He knew that the ogre was going to get the treasure and use it to take over the shop. He didn't want to let the ogre get the treasure, but he didn't have a choice. | It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The adventurers came in, looking for savings on their latest acquisition. They tried to haggle, but the shopkeep was always fair. He let them talk and try to get a better deal, but in the end, he always came out on top. That is, until one day. The adventurers had been in the shop for weeks, trying to haggle their way to a lower price. The shopkeep had grown tired of it and decided to give them a break. He lowered the price by half, but they still wouldn't budge. Finally, the shopkeep asked them how much they wanted for the weapon. The adventurers said they would take it for free. The shopkeep was surprised, but he figured they were just being helpful. He thanked them and they left, leaving the pawn shop with a new weapon in hand. | You're the proprietor of a successful RPG pawn shop. You've been in business for years, and you know how to haggle with the best of them. You're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot, and you're always ready to make a deal. today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come into town. They're carrying a lot of loot, and you can tell they're ready to sell. You approach them and start haggling. After a few minutes of haggling, you finally strike a deal. The adventurers are happy with the price you've offered, and you're happy with the loot you've acquired. It's just another day in the life of a successful RPG pawn shop owner. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | One day, you met someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person told you a story of how they got to be what they are today. But, the biggest lie was their mind-boggling evasion answer. | You meet this person one day on the street. They are quite different from the other people in your world. They tell you their story in detail, and it makes you think differently about the world. You also understand that if you keep listening to them, they will take you down with them. You make a decision then and there to skip over them and go on with your life. | I was drawn to him from the moment I saw him. His single scar was the largest I had ever seen. It was a deep, dark red, and it ran down his right arm. It was striking, and it caught my attention. I wanted to know more about this man. We started talking, and soon we were friends. He told me about his life, and about the lie that created his biggest scar. It was a lie that he had been told as a child. He had been told that he was bad, and that he was nothing. But he had fought back, and he had won. He told me about the day that he had won, and about the feeling of joy that had washed over him. He told me about the people that he had saved, and about the future that he had created. I was floored by his story. His single scar was the biggest thing in the world to him, but it wasn't the only thing. He was beautiful inside and out. I was so proud of him, and I loved him more than anything. His biggest scar was the best thing about him. | In a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body, one woman bears the heaviest burden. Her body is covered in scars, some large and deep, others small and barely visible. But each one represents a lie that she has told. The woman knows that her lies have made her into a outcast, someone that others avoid and fear. But she can't help it. The lies just seem to spill out of her mouth, no matter how hard she tries to stop them. One day, she meets someone who has only one scar. It is the biggest one she has ever seen. The woman is intrigued by this person, and curious to know what could have caused such a deep and large scar. As they get to know each other, the woman begins to feel a connection with this person. They share a bond that is forged by their shared experience of bearing the weight of their lies. Together, they learn to live with their scars and find strength in each other. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Although he has been dead for centuries, Bob Ross can still see the beauty of his places. His Staben SalzachIn the Shephard's Park near Zürich, he has His Many Crimes. | As a young boy, I loved running around the family farm. I would jump over the fence and explore the fields and cornfields. Now as an adult, I still love to explore the farm and its various areas. One of the areas I always like to explore is the house where my great-grandma used to live. I used to go outside and play with my cousins, but now that I'm an adult, I really don't want to go outside. I want to stay in my house and spend my time looking at Bob Ross' paintings of the farm. I think they're really beautiful and I enjoy looking at them. | Bob Ross had a peaceful life, painting landscapes of the different locations he visited. But behind the scenes, he was a bloody murderer. In his travels, he had visited many different places, and he was always drawn to the scenic views. But there was one place in particular where he killed many people. The location was a beautiful mountain range, and Bob Ross loved to paint the scenes there. But one day, he decided to murder a family who were vacationing there. He chloroformed them and stabbed them to death with his paintbrush. The murders stopped there, but the guilt consumed him. He knew he had killed innocent people, and it ruined his art and his life. He committed suicide, painting one final landscape of the mountain range where he had committed his crimes. | Bob Ross was a notoriously successful serial killer. For years, he evaded capture while leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. His MO was simple: he would paint a landscape, and then he would kill someone in that location. As it turns out, each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was a real place. The different locations were the sites of his countless murders. Authorities were finally able to catch up to him when they matched the locations of his paintings to the crime scenes. Now, Bob Ross is in prison, and his paintings are collector's items. But for the families of his victims, they'll always be reminders of the tragedy that befell their loved ones. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | Responses to the cry of wars made by people on each other left scars on each person's face. How the person entity would change the face of the world. | When Alice was five, she would often cry during her parents fight. She knew that they would get back on track soon and wouldn't need to fight, but she was always nervous that one of them would cry again. Alice would sit in the corner, between her parents, plotting what to do next. One day, there was a loud argument and Alice's father carried her out to the car. Alice was left in the house, watching as her mother cried. For the next year, Alice would cry herself to sleep, thinking of her father and the argument. She would dream of him carrying her out to the car, and the sound of his voice in her dream. One day, while she was sleeping, she heard a noise coming from her room. She slowly opened the door and saw her father with his hands behind his back, looking down at her. Alice knew then that he had won the argument and that she would never see her mother cry again. | The world would be a very different place if tears left scars on people's faces. Some people would be able to see that their tears have consequences, and they would learn to control them better. Other people would find that their emotions are uncontrollable, and they would have to learn to live with the evidence of their tears. Some people would be able to find a new way to express their emotions. They would learn to get past the pain and sadness that comes with crying. Other people would find that their tears are a sign of weakness and would become embarrassed about them. | I remember the first time I saw the scars. I was just a child, and I was playing with my friends in the park. One of them fell and scraped her knee. She started crying, and I saw the scars for the first time. They were so different from our own skin. They were raised and red, and they looked painful. I didn't understand why she was crying. I thought maybe she was just hurt. But then I saw the other kids' scars. They had them too. I realized that they were all crying because of their scars. It wasn't until later that I found out that tears actually caused the scars. When someone cries, their tears leave behind scars. It's like they're crying out in pain, and their tears are the proof. The world is a different place now that I know about the scars. I see them everywhere. On the faces of my friends, on strangers in the street. They're a constant reminder of the pain that people feel. And sometimes, when I see someone with a lot of scars, I can't help but wonder how much they've cried. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 2 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The device is a bit of a burden, but it is the only way to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's a part of their job to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's why they are Auditor. | As Auditor, it was my job to monitor the population, and make sure none of them were able to reproduce. I had to implant devices into the people throughout their teenage years, to prevent them from bringing down the community. I was worried that if they were able to reproduce, they would be amongst the stupidest people in the world. But I was wrong. They reproduced, and they created a population of idiots that our community could never hope to compete with. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was meant to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but unfortunately, it also prevents me from reproducing. It's a frustrating reality, but I have to live with it. The only way to deactivate the device is to be determined by an Auditor as being intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. My hope is that one day, someone will find me intelligent and stable enough to be their wife or husband, and we can start a family together. | You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in people during puberty. One day, you are called to the home of a young couple who want to have a child. You interview them and administer a series of tests to gauge their intelligence and stability. After careful consideration, you determine that they are suitable candidates to be parents and deactivate their birth control devices. You are always careful and thorough in your work, but you know that not everyone is as lucky as this couple. There are many people in the world who are not as fortunate enough to be able to have children, and you feel blessed to be able to help them create new life. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | Jennie is a cat who has been living in Jennie's home for years. Jennie has always been @@_(something_is_visible)_#_ and has never felt the need to worry about it. Until one day when | referendum# organisation# was in store#. Jennie{ }noted that a?] score of books{ } ] ] ] ] } were left at the house. Jennie then noticed that one of the books had been Against the Day. Jennie was histrionic in her efforts to cover up thevisible book's bookmark, but she knew that something wasursively living in her home. Jennie has always been] ] ] ] ] ] ] @@_(something_is_visible)_#_ and has never felt the need to worry about it.Until one day when | referendum# organisation# was in store#. Jennie{ }noted that a? score of books{ } ] ] ] ] } were left at the house. Jennie thennoticed that one of the books had been Against the Day. Jennie was histrionic in her efforts to cover up thevisible book's bookmark, but she knew that something wasreally living in her home. | I have been trying to exorcise the ghost of something I cannot see for months now. I have invested so much energy into trying to rid my home of the ghost that I have stopped caring about my own safety. The ghost has been living in my home for as long as I can remember and I can't seem to rid myself of it. I have even installed a ghost detector in my home to help me track the ghost down, but it just doesn't seem to be working. I keep getting warning signals from the detector, but I can't seem to stop the ghost from haunting my home. What is going on? | I was cleaning out my old clothes closet and I found a old sweater I never used. I brought it to the laundry room and started the wash cycle. As I was folding the clothes, I noticed something moving on the other side of the dryer. I tried to take a picture but it disappeared before I could get a good shot. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I had to find out. | I'm not sure when it started, but I know that there's something living in my house. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest, a constant reminder that I'm not alone. I've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm onto it, and it's playing a game with me now. Every time I think I've got it cornered, it slips away. It's maddening, but I can't give up. I have to find out what this thing is, and why it's chosen my home. Maybe then I can finally get rid of it. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) is an annual event holding together politicians, experts, and conservative Analysts from all across the country. This year, the event is being held this year in front of a large and sellout crowd. The discussion on current events is heating up as candidates and political rookies are among the speakers. One young politician, John Shasa, is getting attention from all sides as he takes the stage. John is a young Replacement Candidate for a major party in the state of Dakota. The media is taking interest in John and he is getting attention from both up and down theispany. John is honored with a reminder from his boss to stay ahead of the go-values and be very careful about donations from PACs. two days after the conference, John is replaced by a new candidate, John isai | Today, there is an issue that deserves the most media attention. The issue is the Presidential election. Everyone is talking about it, and it seems like no one knows what to do about it. | It has been said that any event that happens in the world today is worthy of our attention. And, based on that statement, a current event that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the refugee crisis. Since the beginning of the year, millions of people have fled their homes in search of safety. Many of these refugees are fleeing violence and persecution in countries like Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq. The refugee crisis has caused massive problems for countries around the world. Many have been unable to accommodate the influx of refugees, and many others have been forced to pay exorbitant amounts of money to help refugees settle in their countries. The refugee crisis is a challenging issue, but it is also an important one. By focusing on the refugee crisis, we can help to bring attention to the important issues that are driving it. | In a world consumed by hate, it's important to remember what we're fighting for. We're fighting for the future, for the world our children will inherit. And that's why the current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is climate change. Climate change is the biggest threat to our planet, and we're already seeing the effects. The world is getting warmer, weather patterns are changing, and extreme weather events are becoming more and more common. And it's only going to get worse. If we don't act now, the world our children inherit will be a very different place. A place where the seas are rising, the weather is unpredictable, and life as we know it is in danger. We have to act now, before it's too late. We have to fight for the future of our planet. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Adolf Hitler was estate manager of a small Austrian villa. Joseph Stalin was the General Secretary of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was the leadership secretary of the Bolshevik party. Josip Broz Tito was the president of Yugoslavia. All of these people were very interested in Freud's new research. They were all eager to find out what Freud's new discoveries would mean for their countries. But the only thing they could find was a waiting list. The only people who wanted to be part of the clinical trials were Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. But the other three people were all too busy with their own lives. monks | Frie d Freud was perplexed. He had placed an ad in a Viennese newspaper looking for participants for his latest clinical trial. All of the responses were from people much older than him. Adolf Hitler was 24, Joseph Stalin 35, Leon Trotsky 34, and Josip Broz Tito 21. Frie d Freud was skeptical, but he decided to go ahead with the trial. He was pleasantly surprised by the younger participants. Adolf Hitler was enthusiastic about his new theories and was eager to help test them. Joseph Stalin was more guarded, but he was still interested in learning more. Leon Trotsky was the most outspoken of the group. He was skeptical of Freud's theories and did not hesitate to voice his opinion. Josip Broz Tito was the most open-minded of the group. He was eager to learn everything he could and was not afraid to question Freud. Overall, the trial was a success. Freud learned a lot from his younger participants and they all benefited from the experience. Adolf Hitler set a new example for how to act as a leader and Joseph Stalin learned how to be more forceful. Leon Trotsky improved his debating skills and Josip Broz Tito became more confident and persuasive. | It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is intrigued by this strange group of men, and so he decides to conduct his trials with them. Over the course of the next few weeks, he discovers that each of them is struggling with deep-seated psychological issues. Hitler is consumed by anger and hatred, Stalin is plagued by paranoia and anxiety, Trotsky is plagued by insecurity and self-doubt, and Tito is plagued by a deep sense of inferiority. But despite their different issues, they all share one common trait: a deep desire for power. As Freud continues to treat them, he comes to realize that their mental disorders are actually what gives them the strength to pursue their ambitions. Without their disorders, they would be nothing. In the end, Freud is left with a profound understanding of the human condition, and the four men who changed his life forever. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
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| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disarray. The players are haggling with the adventurers over the looted items in the shop. Some adventurers are offering large prices for items, while others are offering goods that are type-boosts or protection from type-astrals. The players are having none of it. They are trying to sell goods to each other over the Bitcoins they've acquired from the instances. The adventurers areEntries: | I was always a bit of aortunist. I loved finding new, unused gear and selling it to people who needed it most. A few years ago, though, I decided to start my own RPG pawn shop. It was a bit of a risk, but I thought it would be a lot of fun. I've been doing well, and I've met some really interesting people. I even have a few regulars. | The day was busy at the RPG pawn shop. Adventurers had come in from all over the kingdom to sell their looted goods. Pawnee had to be the most clever trader around, and she loved it. She haggled with every adventurer, trying to get the best deal. It was a bit of a nuisance, but she loved the challenge. She always came out on top, and it was a good way to make money. The day went by quickly, and before she knew it, it was time for her closing time. She thanked the adventurers for coming, and said goodbye. She put away her shop supplies, and locked the door. She was glad the day was over, and she could finally rest. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You know the value of the items they're trying to sell, and you always try to get the best deal for your shop. Today, a young woman came into your shop with a bag of loot. She was trying to sell a magic sword, a magical ring, and a few other items. You looked at the items and offered her a fair price for them. The woman haggled with you for a bit, but eventually she agreed to sell you the items for a good price. You were happy with the deal, and the woman seemed happy with the money she got for her loot. You thanked her for her business and sent her on her way. As she left, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of adventures she would have with her new loot. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | The pictures aren't all easy cases. In each one, there's a real place that Bob Ross tableauns have killed its way through. He's killed everyone, including Bob Dylan and Leonardo da Vinci. But he's most memorable to readers because he towned the cases and depicted the solveings of their cases. Each painting has a story to tell. | Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. The color, the texture, the feeling of being in a place that was actually real. But every time he finished a painting, he felt auries of sadness. Each of his landscapes depicted different atrocities committed by his victims, their blood and their bodies spread across the canvas like a stain. Lonely nights, when his studio was dark and empty, he would go to those places and feel their embrace. Sometimes, he would find clues buried under the dried blood, or in the pieces of bones that littered the floor. But it was always hard to bare the thought of putting another brush to those canvas again. | It was a beautiful day outside, and Bob Ross was painting a landscape in his studio. He had been painting for hours, and it looked like he was getting close to finishing. But then, out of nowhere, someone shot him in the head. Bob Ross fell to the ground,dead. His murderer got away, and the police are still trying to find him. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. He didn't just kill people, he tortured and mutilated them. And he did it all while painting happy little trees and smiling suns. Ross' victims were all over the country, in every state. But each of his landscape paintings was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. No one knew the true nature of the man behind the paintings. They only saw the happy, gentle man on TV. But the real Bob Ross was a cold-blooded killer who got away with murder for years. Until one day, a victim's body was found near one of Ross' paintings. The police investigation led them to Ross' door. And when they finally caught him, they found out the chilling truth about the man behind the landscapes. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The next day, the person you met told you more about their story. She had been lying to you from the moment you met her, but she had finally decided to break the story because she was low on funds and you were offers toys. She had been trying to run away and thought you would get mad so she took a run for it. She had a big scowl on and was only D positioned. You had a scar on your face from the size of the lie. The person you met told you about her childhood and how she waseger to the military to make ends meet. She had aDefault due to her lies, but she had a life left to live. She had a other scar on her that was the aftermath of that traumatic experience. | "You're a liar," the man said coldly. "You always have been." It was the first time he had ever spoken to her, and he had no reason to be friendly. She was the liar, the one that always created problems for others. But for some inexplicable reason, sheamar felt an attraction to her. She had the biggest scar on her body, and it made her look Strike-like. Sheamar tried to remember why the man's comment made her feel so uncomfortable. It was probably something about her size that made him think she was dishonest. Sheamar felt herself blush, and she knew she had to cover up her scar if she wanted to stay alive. | I had never seen anything like it. It was huge, stretched from cheek to cheek, running across their nose and filling half their face. It was a horrifying sight, and I couldn't help but stare. "What is that?" I asked, pointing to the massive scar on the stranger's face. They looked at me, sadness in their eyes. "It's a lie," they said. "But it's so big," I protested. "How could a single lie make such a big difference?" "It's because the bigger the lie, the more people it affects," the stranger said. "The more people it hurts, the more it lasts. It's like a permanent scar on the liar's body." I couldn't believe it. This world was full of lies, and they were all hurting people in different ways. It was sad, and I wished I could change it. | John had always been a liar. It was something that came naturally to him, and he had never really given it much thought. But in his world, every time he told a lie, a scar would appear on his body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. Over the years, John's body had become covered in scars. Some were small and barely noticeable, while others were large and deep. He had even started to forget which lies had caused which scars. One day, John met someone who only had one scar. It was the biggest one he had ever seen. John was curious about this person, and so he asked them how they got it. The person told John that they had lied about something very important, something that had caused a lot of pain and heartache. They said that they regretted it deeply, and that was why their scar was so big. John was taken aback by this. He had never regretted any of his lies, no matter how big or how small. But hearing this person's story made him realize that maybe he should start being more careful with his words. After all, he didn't want to end up with a scar as big as theirs. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud fears he may have discovered the cause of his recent clients's anxiety. He choreographs a call to Adolf Hitler, who is then able to provide insights that feeding on fear and terror has caused the anxiety. Joseph Stalin is more effective, but he can't quite remember to use the word "idol" for Josip Broz Tito. Fearing for his clients's lives, Sigmund Freud pairs him with Leon Trotsky, who both offer Duo-by-Duo Value quips about how the other's " dismembering" of the world is the elixir of life. The Contracts Section of the Free jurys library has a copy of the contract between Jacques Duponzi and the− "ADOLF HITLER, FILY JOSEF HITLER, JOSE fetching a rose "FILY JOSEF HITLER, FILY filling a cup of hot chocolate "FILY JOSEF HITLER, FILY holding a handkerchief to her face "FILY JOSEF HITLER, FILY giving birth to a child" | Sigmund Freud put an ad in a Vienna paper for clinical trials of a new research discovery. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. They agreed to participate in the trials, but didn't know what the outcome would be. | Freud was excited to have received responses to his clinical trial ad. He quickly organized a meeting to discuss the trials with his new recruits. Hitler was the first to arrive. He was immediately suspicious of Freud. "What are these trials for?" He asked. "Adolf, let's be reasonable," said Stalin. "This is a chance to make a name for ourselves. We can be the brains behind Freud's new research." Tito wasn't convinced. "I'm not sure I'm ready to take on such a big challenge." Freud was beginning to get frustrated. He didn't want to waste any more time. "All right, let's get started. We have three days to discuss the trials and come up with a plan." The recruits spent the next three days arguing and competing for Freud's attention. None of them were interested in the trials anymore. They had all found their own ways to make a name for themselves. | Sigmund Freud was eagerly seeking participants for his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his research and was eager to get started. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to attract a few participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to participate in the trial. Freud was a bit apprehensive about having such controversial figures in his trial, but he decided to go ahead with it. He was curious to see how his research would affect them. The trial went well and Freud was able to collect valuable data from the four participants. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all responded differently to the treatment, but Freud was able to gain insights into their minds. The trial was a success, but Freud was left wondering about the four men who had participated. He had never met such controversial figures before and he was curious to know more about them. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | The devices are always Deactivated as soon as possible, as preventing only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing is not an attractive plan. Even so, it is what is necessary in order to protect the world. With that in mind, the chips are ever again put into the hands of the less-than-diligent amidst the potential for artificial intelligence taking over the world. | As an auditor, I had the responsibility of monitoring the reproduction of the population. I was always looking for ways to prevent the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world, and I finally had a breakthrough! I decided to implant all of the population with birth control devices during puberty. To my satisfaction, the population plummeted in IQ and stability. However, there were also some incredibly intelligent people who were eventually able to raise healthy children on their own. These families were incredible and I learned a lot from them. | I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was a simple, small device, about the size of a pencil eraser, that was embedded deep inside my skull. I never knew its name, or what it was for. I was just a normal teenager, until one day I was informed that I had been chosen to be an Auditor. As an Auditor, my job is to make sure that only the smartest people in the world are allowed to reproduce. The device inside my head will ensure that I never get pregnant, and that the children I might someday have are well-adjusted and intelligent. It's a difficult job, but I'm determined to do my best. | You're an Auditor, tasked with determining whether people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review their history, test their intelligence, and observe their behavior. If you determine that they are not up to the task, their birth control device will be deactivated, and they will be unable to reproduce. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of humanity depends on it. You review each case carefully, and make your decisions based on the evidence. Sometimes it's hard to tell who is really up to the task, but you do your best. You know that not everyone agrees with the system, but you believe it is necessary. After all, the last thing the world needs is more dumb people reproducing. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | During the time Bob Ross was painting his houses across the country, many people died during his crimes. His paintings are now some of the places where people live. | Bob Ross died in a mysterious murder a few years ago. The painting world has mourned his loss, but each new painting that is released features a different location of his massacres. People everywhere are starting to suspect that Ross was responsible for these murders, but no one seems to be able to prove it. One day, a new painting is released featuring a location in Australia. All the suspects in this case seem to be Australian residents, and there's no one who can ID the painting. Suddenly, the police become involved. They're able to identify the victim in the painting as aussie TV personality and murder suspect, and they're soon able to catch Ross. | Bob Ross always claimed he painted the landscapes of his paintings from memory. But many people believed the true location of his murders was always somewhere near the canvas. Some claimed he killed in the mountains, others said the seashore. But no one could say for sure where the artist truly killed his victims. Occasionally, someone would catch a glimpse of Bob painting in a far-off corner of the country, but they never could confirm it was him. The police never could either. The only thing we knew for certain was that Bob Ross killed people. And we'll never know where his true murders took place. | Bob Ross was a serial killer. For years, he travelled around the country, murdering innocent people and painting their landscapes. He was a master of disguise and no one suspected him – until now. The police are closing in on Bob and they know that his paintings are more than just pretty landscapes. They're evidence of his crimes. As they close in, Bob knows that he won't be able to keep up the facade for much longer. He's running out of time and he knows that his next painting will be his last. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 2 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), Josip Broz Tito (21). | Adolf Hitler was browsing the newspaper when he saw the ad. He knew that he would be perfect for the clinical trials because he was a well-known leader and general in the war. Joseph Stalin was also a powerful leader in the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was a powerful leader in the Polish Socialist Republic. and Josip Broz Tito was a powerful leader in the Yugoslavia. All of the leaders were interested in participating in the clinical trials. Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded. He was excited to be a part of the clinical trials and was sure that he would be able to help the patients. | Freud was excited to test his new research on the prestigious members of Vienna's society. He put an ad in the newspaper looking for participants for clinical trials of his latest findings. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a little nervous about having such controversial figures in his studies, but he was intrigued by their ideas. The six men met for the first time and began their clinical trials. The results were shocking. Adolf Hitler showed a clear talent for leadership and became the Chancellor of Germany. Joseph Stalin became the dictator of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was assassinated, but his theories lived on through Joseph Stalin. Josip Broz Tito led Yugoslavia to independence and became its first president. | It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties, and all were eager to participate in the trials. Freud was impressed with their enthusiasm and decided to accept them all into the program. Over the course of the next few months, Freud conducted a series of experiments with the four men. He tested their reactions to various stimuli, and observed their behavior. Overall, Freud was pleased with the results of the trials. He found that all four men were highly intelligent and responded well to the tests. However, he also noticed some differences between them. For example, Hitler was much more aggressive than the other three men. Stalin was the most controlling, while Trotsky was the most outspoken. Tito, meanwhile, was the most even-tempered of the group. In the end, Freud was unable to determine which of the four men would be most successful in life. However, he did conclude that all four were highly capable individuals with great potential. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 3 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The something invisible was around when myrays were sleeping. It was following me as I went to my home to sleep at night. I was wakes up to see it and try to avoid it. I even place some distance between us. But it's still there. It's always there. And it's notGoing into my home is like confronting some massive ghost. I'm relieved when I'm not under the influence of that something invisible any longer. | One day, I Notice something Invisible in my Home. I try to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. But it seems to be very determined to stay hidden. It can't seem to let go. It's like it wants to stay with me and keep me company. I appreciate it for its company, but I'm afraid that it might damage my home. I need to find a way to keep it away. | I was cleaning my kitchen one day, when I felt something moving around in the corner. I looked and saw a small, black cat dart out from under the cupboard. I chased it around the kitchen, but it was too fast for me. I finally catch it and pick it up, but when I turn around, the cupboard is empty! I couldn't believe it - the cat was invisible! | I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my house. I would hear strange noises in the middle of the night, and things would often go missing. I never really thought much of it until recently. I've been trying to catch whatever it is that's been living in my house for weeks now. I've set up cameras and tried to stay up all night to see if I could catch it in the act. But so far, I've had no luck. Tonight, I'm going to try a different approach. I'm going to pretend to go to bed and see if whatever it is will come out of hiding. I'll be waiting for it, and this time, I'll finally be able to expose the invisible creature that's been living in my home. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 4 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | How did the release of the AR-15 Rifle that used in thestown movie come about? The AR-15 Rifle that Unsafe was movie about the return of an old firearms that has beeniophed out how it came about that the gun was used in the movie "The BackyardBattle. | Today, the economy is in trouble. North Korea is holding a test cycle of a new type of nuclear weapon, and analysts are warning that the world is on the brink of a nuclear war. The media is overflowing with reports and stories about the crisis, but there is one story that has received a lot of attention and deserves to be the most scrutinized. That story is the story of Professor Mark Zuckerberg. | The current events issue of the day is the escalating conflict between Saudi Arabia and Iran. The two countries have been trading accusations of aggression and violations of international law for weeks now, and the situation is growing increasingly tense. The United Nations has called for an immediate ceasefire, but so far neither Saudi Arabia nor Iran seems willing to back down. The conflict comes at a particularly bad time for both countries. Saudi Arabia is struggling to manage the fallout from the global financial crisis, while Iran is facing economic sanctions from the international community over its controversial nuclear program. If the conflict continues to escalate, it could have serious consequences for both countries. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention today is the opioid crisis. Overdoses from opioids are now the leading cause of death for Americans under the age of 50, and the crisis shows no signs of abating. The reasons for this are complex, but include the overprescribing of opioids, the easy availability of illegal opioids, and the lack of access to treatment for addiction. This is a complex problem that will require a multi-faceted approach to solve. We need to increase access to treatment for addiction, crack down on the illegal opioid trade, and find ways to reduce the overprescribing of opioids. This is a tall order, but it's one that we need to meet if we're going to save lives. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 5 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in excellent condition, and the players are amused by the game of Asset Boutiqui. It took some acquired skills, but the players have reached the point where they can sell their stuff. The shop is less than 2 levels down from the one above it. | One day, a group of adventurers came to my pawn shop looking for looted treasure. They were out of luck, as I was in the process of bargaining with them. "Hey, pal," I called out. "I could use some gold to buy some new gear." The adventurers didn't have the heart to tell me that they couldn't provide the gold, so they asked me to keep the treasure. I did, and continued to help out my customers. But one day, the adventurers left. They had found a better place to find treasure. I was sad to see them go, but I was also glad that I had been able to help them out. | "How much for this mace?" asked the adventurer, holding up the weapon for me to see. I considered the object for a moment. It was a decent weapon, but I wasn't sure if it was worth my while to sell it. If I sold it, I could make a decent profit. However, I could also offer the adventurer a better price if I haggled with him. "I'll give you fifty gold for it," I said shortly. The adventurer looked surprised, but he didn't protest. He exchanged the mace for the fifty gold and left my shop. I pocketed the money and smiled to myself. Haggling was the key to my success as a pawn shop owner. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best deals. Today, a young man walks into your shop with a sack full of loot. He looks exhausted, and you can tell he's been on a long journey. You ask him what he's got, and he shows you a collection of weapons, armor, and other items. You start to haggle with him, but he's obviously not in the mood. He's tired, and he just wants to get rid of his loot. You eventually agree on a price, and he hands over the loot. As you're sorting through the items, you notice a strange amulet. It's not like anything you've seen before, and you can't help but be intrigued. You ask the young man where he got it, and he tells you that he found it on the body of a strange creature he killed. He has no idea what it is, but he thought you might. You examine the amulet closely, and you can tell that it's magical. You have no idea what its purpose is, but you're determined to find out. You'll have to study it more, but you're sure you can figure it out. This could be a very valuable find, and you're glad the young man brought it to you. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
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| 1 | It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Sigmund Freud troop is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ). | Hitler wasn't the only person interested in joining Freud's clinical trials. Stalin was also interested. He was interested in learning about Freud's latest research and how it could help him in his goals of world domination. Trotsky also wanted to be a part of the trials, but he was too young and too inexperienced. There was only one person left who seemed to have no interest in joining the trials - Josip Broz Tito. He was interested in learning about Freud's research and the possible uses it could be put to in the future. But, other than that, he was just a normal, average guy who wanted to go to school and have a good life. | Freud was excited to test his newest theory on his intriguing patients. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, looking for anyone who might be interested in participating in his clinical trials. Some of Freud's most famous patients, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito, all responded to the ad. Freud was thrilled to have such brilliant minds on board for his experiment. Each patient was interviewed and tested according to Freud's experimental protocols. The results of the trials were shocking. Some of the patients experienced strange hallucinations, while others displayed an uncanny ability to think logically and decisively. But despite the varied results, all of the patients agreed that the experience was illuminating and insightful. They all felt that they had learned something valuable about themselves and their relationship to the world. After the trials were complete, Freud looked at his patients and smiled. He knew that his research had been successful. He had discovered something new about the human psyche, and he was sure that it would change the course of history. | Sigmund Freud's latest research involves clinical trials testing a new psychological theory. He needs participants, so he takes out an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties and are eager to participate in the trials. Freud is impressed with their enthusiasm and decides to use all four of them as test subjects. Over the course of the trials, Freud begins to notice some disturbing trends. Hitler and Stalin are both unusually aggressive and seem to take pleasure in causing pain to others. Trotsky is also aggressive, but his aggression is directed more towards ideas and concepts, rather than people. Tito, on the other hand, is relatively calm and level-headed. As the trials progress, Freud becomes increasingly worried about the potential implications of his research. He begins to feel that he may have unleashed something dangerous into the world. But it's too late to turn back now, and Freud must see the trials through to the end. | Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room. |
| 2 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | integrate AI into our lives We may not be able to see it, but tears are real and they hurt. They leave scars on our faces that never go away. And they are a part of our lives, a part of our experiences. But what if those tears were made comical situations instead of leaving hurt and Genocide? Would our world be any different? With AI in our lives, we may be able to laugh at the tears that fall down our faces, but those tears will be the ever-lasting ones. | The days leading up to the graduation were cruel. Tyler, thefreshman at my school, had tears streaming down his face the entire time he was getting his diploma. It was ironic; tears were all he could find within himself to keep him going. I didn't understand why he had to put on a front like that, but there he was, tearing up in front of everyone. As the graduates streamed into the room, my heart ached for Tyler. He looked so sad and lost, and I wanted to take him in my arms and comfort him. But I didn't. I just watched as he walked into the actuarial room, holding his diploma. It felt so wrong to see him like that, like he had let himself be destroyed. I wanted to do something to help him, but I couldn't. I wished I could, but I couldn't. I just watched him as he made his way back to his apartment, alone and lost. That was the last time I saw Tyler. He left to go work in a company near the city and never looked back. They say that the scars left by tears are never completely healed, and that they always linger in someone's heart. That's how I felt about Tyler; I ached for him every day, but I could never reach him. | It was a normal day, until the tears started flowing. They spilled out of her eyes, and down her cheeks, and onto the floor. She had no control over them, and they just kept coming. The girl cried until there were no more tears left, and then she cried some more. She cried until she was exhausted, and then she cried some more. The tears left deep scars on her face, and they changed the way the world looked at her. The people who used to ignore her now paid more attention. The people who used to judge her now asked her for help. The people who used to mistreat her now showed her kindness. The girl was finally able to start healing, and her scars became a symbol of hope. They showed her that even in the darkest moments, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. For one, people would be much more careful about who they cried in front of. No one wants to be seen with a face full of scars, so people would be much more selective about who they let see them crying. This would lead to a lot of people bottling up their emotions, which could have all sorts of negative consequences. On the other hand, some people might see the scars as a badge of honor. They would wear them with pride, showing the world that they're not afraid to show their emotions. This could lead to a more emotionally open and honest world, which would be a good thing. So, overall, it's hard to say how tears leaving scars would change the world. It could go either way, depending on how people reacted to it. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| 3 | ``What happens next?'' ``I die'' | I die. | The next day, my body was found in the forest. I had died from the fall. | After I'm shot, I fall to the ground. I can't move. I'm paralyzed from the waist down. I'm terrified. I don't know what will happen next. | I die. That's what happens next. I always knew this day would come. I was never supposed to live past 30. That's what the doctors said, and they were usually right about these things. So, now that my time is up, I'm not scared. I'm actually kind of relieved. I know that sounds terrible, but I'm just so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of being in pain, tired of living. I know my family will be sad when I'm gone, but I also know they'll be better off without me. I'm a burden to them, and I know they'd be better off without me. So, this is it. This is goodbye. I just hope that my death will mean something, that it will make a difference in this world. Even if it's just a small difference, it will be worth it. | ``And then...'' Joseph's roommate, Mark, paused expectantly. Joseph didn't really care about, or even believe, what he was saying, but decided he may as well be polite. He sighed a little, and said, ``What happens next?'' ``I die.'' ``You die? In the present tense? Now?'' ``No, in the story I'm telling you about how I saved my dog from getting hit by a boat. This happened when I was, like, eight. Pay attention.'' ``Then why did you say it like that?'' ``God, you don't have to be so overly critical of everything. I thought it sounded good.'' ``Fine, whatever. If you died, how are you alive?'' ``My heart was stopped for exactly ten minutes and seven seconds, but they managed to revive me.'' ``How did they revive you after your heart was stopped for ten minutes?'' ``I got a blood transfusion from my dear late mother's canary.'' ``That's... not... that doesn't even make sense. How would that even work?'' ``God, Joseph, I'm not a doctor. I don't know.'' ``You told me yesterday you went to med school.'' ``I told you yesterday I *flunked out* of med school, hence the'not' part, which you would know if you ever listened to me. You're so self absorbed.'' ``But you said you made straight As and all the teachers loved you.'' ``Well, you, quote,'had' to go–'' ``I did have to go, I had class.'' ``–and you never let me get to the part where I ran into a bad crowd. I was with a gang for a while, it was really badass but a dark time in my life.'' ``I don't think that happened.'' ``I have a tattoo on my butt if you wan na see.'' ``NO.'' |
| 4 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | Multiplayer gaming was starting to feel like a dragging failure. Harry was drawledhabitualクロエ, but at least he was doing well in the head-to-head competition. He managed to get close to the next guy, but by the time he got close, the other guy had already won. Harry was left with little choice but to hurry up the competition. As heBadass Rogue failed toGHZ, Harry gets an idea. Hey, he might be a slime, but he's still a human. We can try and win the competition by himself. Harry gets out his Angular Isomorphic art and starts create a buckteens of skinorganisms. He gets tired of being the second fiddle, so he decides to just pull the rabbit out of the hat. Vindicated | As the magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had been using him as a mere tool, and the rabbit was getting tired of it. He wanted to be the star of the show, not the rabbit that was dragged along just to keep the show going. "You're no good," the magician said to the rabbit. "You're just a cheap ornament. I can't do without you, but I can't keep using you. You're going to have to go." The rabbit was sad, but he knew he couldn't refuse the magician. He was grateful for the opportunity to make a show, but he would no longer be a valuable instrument. | The magician was tired of always being the rabbit in the hat. He was sick of always being the one that got to be the center of attention. So he decided to do something about it. He put on a show that would amaze and astound everyone in attendance. He pulled out a rabbit that had been hiding in his hat the whole time. The rabbit was sick of always being the second fiddle. The magician made her the star of the show and she loved every minute of it. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's had enough. So, during the next trick, when the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit makes his move. He bites the magician's hand, hard. The audience gasps in shock as the rabbit makes a break for it, running off stage and into the night. The magician is left reeling, nursing his wounded hand. He knows that he can't go on without his rabbit, but he also knows that he can't keep him in a cage forever. It's time to let him go. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 5 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | Whenaisi finished her instilling in the form of birth control devices last year, she had never thought of the future when it came to its ability to her. She had always been a smart girl, but this new ability had CAUTIOUSLY SOONened her. The world seen from her new perspective was load with implications. She wasoxygenated andiether by the side of the road while her 1 | Auditors are the most intelligent people in the world. We know what's best for those who rely on us and we work hard to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. We implant birth control devices into people during puberty so that only the most intelligent and stable people can have children. We're confident that this will keep the world safe and happy. Thank you for your support! | It was a bleak future, where only the smartest people in the world could reproduce. To prevent the dumbest people from producing children, they were implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device could only be deactivated once it was determined that the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. This was a daunting task, as only the smartest people in the world were chosen to be Auditors. An Auditor was responsible for ensuring that the smartest people in the world were reproducing responsibly and ensuring that they were raising well-adjusted humans. It was a difficult and challenging job, but it was essential to the future of the planet. | You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in people during puberty. You take your job very seriously and have a strict set of criteria that you use to determine who is eligible to have children. Over the years, you have become very good at your job and have helped to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. However, you recently came across a case that has you stumped. A young woman named Sarah has applied to have her birth control device deactivated. On paper, she meets all of your criteria. She is intelligent, stable, and has a good job. However, something about Sarah just doesn't sit right with you. You can't quite put your finger on it, but you have a gut feeling that she is not ready to be a parent. After much deliberation, you decide to deny Sarah's request. You know that it is a tough decision, but you believe it is the right one. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | What current events issue today deserves the greatest amount of attention? | The current events issue today is a power outage that isgoing to hit the city tonight. The government is required to reduce the hours they work and is driving people toYanni's to safest place to avoid this issue. Yanni is a safe place for people to go if they are in danger. But people are getting lost in the system and the hours are getting spread out too far. The president is needed to take care of the system and not add to the danger. | It was a cold winter day and all of the sudden, the power went out. No one knew where it came from, but it was everywhere at the same time. Suddenly, the TV and lights were out, and the power was out in the whole city. People were turned off and there was only one line of electricity to get to. It was at the library. The librarian had to use the power to turn on the lights. | The current events issue that deserves the greatest amount of attention is the Syrian refugee crisis. With over three million refugees fleeing their home country, the need for assistance is urgent. Countless lives are at stake and the world is watching. | There are so many current events issues today that deserve attention. However, if I had to choose one that deserves the greatest amount of attention, it would be the refugee crisis. There are so many refugees fleeing their homes due to war, persecution, and poverty. They are risking their lives to try to find a better life for themselves and their families. Unfortunately, many of them are not welcome in the countries they are trying to reach. They are often treated with suspicion and hostility. I believe that we need to do more to help these refugees. We need to show them compassion and welcome them into our countries. | A man ran down the street. ``Everyone listen'' He shouted. ``Tuition is rising! Our children's futures are being stolen from them! Everyone must know!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' Asked a woman on the sidewalk. ``Follow me!'' The man shouted back. ``Follow me and run!'' So the woman followed. So did her children. So did a homeless man watching the whole event. So did the passengers of three nearby cars. All together they shouted at everyone they passed about how tuition was going up. And everyone they met heard, and followed as well. Across town, another man was running. ``The Russians are invading Ukraine. Israel is invading Palestine! All is war and conflict! If you want to make a difference, follow me and run!'' And the people heard, and the people ran. The two groups continued on a collision course, picking up followers as they went. Finally they met in the center of town. ``Out of the way!'' The first man shouted. ``Tuition is on the rise!'' ``No, you get out of the way! War is upon us!'' The second man shouted back. Neither was willing to alter course, the two groups crashed. The men at their respective vanguards died first, crushed between the combined inertia of a hundred thousand concerned citizens. Still the groups tried to push forward, and more and more people were crushed and trampled in the center of the horde. In the end tuition still rose, wars raged on and the city was reduced to two lines of people running opposite directions against a wall of flattened corpses. The next town over, a man ran down the road. ``Bodies are being improperly disposed of'' He shouted. ``Disease will run rampant!'' ``Whatever should we do?'' The people asked. ``Follow me and run'' He replied. ``It is the only way'' |
| 2 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The dark, undetectable secret thing that lives in my home has been a bit of a mystery to me. I know I should be warned of its potential dangers, but I'm not sure how to deal with it. It's like there's something about the dark, hidden life I'm experience that has caught up to me and taken over my life. I'm not sure what it is, but I know I need to face it and deal with it. | One day, I decided to take a closer look at something I had been noticed preceding my every move for the past few months. I slowly opened the door to my small home and peered out. I could see an invisible presence lurking in the shadows, watching me every move. It seemed to be following me like a helpless pet, watching me as I walked around my living room, front room, and backyard. I tried to ignore it, but it just seemed to get more and more persistent. Eventually, I gave up and allowed the entity into my home. It has been living there ever since, haunting me every single day. | I had always sworn I was the only one who could see it, but one night I was proven wrong. As I was getting ready for bed, I heard a noise from the corner of my eye. I turned around to see a small, black figure dart across the room. I immediately ran to the corner, but it was too late. The figure had already disappeared. I was paralyzed with fear as I realized I was the only one who could see it. For months, I tried to figure out how to get rid of it, but it always managed to stay one step ahead of me. I was scared to death that it would catch me, but somehow I managed to survive. Now, every time I walk into my home, I'm on high alert, waiting for the figure to appear. | I could feel it watching me. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its moment to strike. I could never see it, but I could feel its eyes on me, boring into my soul. I tried to expose it, to catch it out in the open, but it was always one step ahead of me. It knew my every move before I even made it. It was an invisible force that lived in my home, and I was determined to find out what it was. One day, I laid a trap. I pretended to leave the house, but I secretly hid in the closet, waiting for it to show itself. And sure enough, after a few minutes, I heard a creak as something stepped out of the shadows. I leapt out of the closet and confronted the thing, whatever it was. But to my shock, there was nothing there. Whatever had been there was gone, vanished into thin air. I was never able to catch that invisible force, but I knew it was still there, lurking, waiting to strike again. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 3 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in close proximity to the edge of a cave. When an adventurer tries to leave, they are quickly attacked by a large cat. The blood and feast that the cat has feeding on the adventurers seems to advantageous to them. They lich, a powerful drow, and a dual-handedly, are trying to take the adventurers down. The cat is more than happy to Anita, the owner of the shop, and her cash-strapped team. The adventurers, meanwhile, are fighting back and winning every time. | One day, a group of adventurers came to my pawnshop looking forunicipal treasure. They were looking for a treasure that had been lost in a recent battle, and they were very excited to find it. I haggled with them for a while, but I was unsuccessful in finding the treasure. The adventurers were very upset and decided to leave. Later that night, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find a group of Adventurers, disappointed that they couldn't find the treasure. They were very sorry to have wasted my time, and they left in a huff. The next day, I saw the adventurers again. They were back with a different goal, this time looking for a magical item. They were very excited to find it and were willing to pay a lot of money for it. But I wasn't going to let them profit from my town's treasure. I haggled with them for a while, but I still couldn't find the item. The adventurers were very disappointed and decided to leave. Later that night, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find a group of Adventurers, disappointed that they couldn't find the treasure. They were very sorry to have wasted my time, and they left in a huff. The next day, I saw the adventurers again. They were back with a different goal, this time looking for a magical item. They were very excited to find it and were willing to pay a lot of money for it. But I wasn't going to let them profit from my town's treasure. I haggled with them for a while, but I still couldn't find the item. The adventurers were very disappointed and decided to leave. One day, a group of adventurers came to my pawnshop looking for municipal treasure. They were looking for a treasure that had been lost in a recent battle, and they were very excited to find it. I haggled with them for a while, but I was unsuccessful in finding the treasure. The adventurers were very angry and decided to leave. Later that night, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find a group of Adventurers, disappointed that they couldn't find the treasure. They were very sorry to have wasted my time, and they left in a huff. The next day, I saw the adventurers again. They were back with a different goal, this time looking for a magical item. They were very excited to find it and were willing to pay a lot of money for it. But I wasn't going to let them profit from my town's treasure. I haggled with them for a while, but I still couldn't find the item. The adventurers were very disappointed and decided to leave. One day, a group of adventurers came to my pawnshop looking for municipal treasure. They were looking for a treasure that had been lost in a recent battle, and they were very excited to find it. I haggled with them for a while, but I was unsuccessful in finding the treasure. The adventurers were very angry and decided to leave. Later that night, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find a group of Adventurers, disappointed that they couldn't find the treasure. They were very sorry to have wasted my time, and they left in a huff. | The shop was always busy, with adventurers coming in and out all day long. Some would try to haggle with the owner, while others would just come in and grab whatever they could. One particular adventurer decided to haggle with the shop owner. They started off by asking for a lower price than what the other adventurers were asking, but the owner wasn't having that. They kept negotiating until they eventually came to an agreement. The shop owner was happy with the deal they made, and the adventurer was happy that they were able to get a good value for their loot. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle. today, a young woman comes into your shop, carrying a large sack. She dumps it out on the counter, and you see a pile of loot. She looks exhausted, and she's covered in dirt and blood. "I'll give you 100 gold for this," she says. You appraise the loot and decide that it's worth at least double that. "I'll give you 150 gold," you say. The woman looks disappointed, but she nods and agrees. She counts out the gold and hands it over. As she's leaving, she thanks you. "Thank you for helping me out," she says. "I really appreciate it." You watch her leave, and you can't help but feel good about yourself. You just made a great deal, and you helped someone in need. That's what you're all about. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 4 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross Reproduces the Look of each of his paintings under bustle pressure of a real place. | Bob Ross spent his life painting landscapes, painting everything from small towns to vast savannas. But his most popular paintings are of his own murders. Every one of his iconic paintings are of massacres, of people killed by guns or spears. Some of them are grotesque, with blood and human flesh dripping from the canvas. But even though they're real, they still leave Bob Ross with a sense of horror. | Bob Ross was a genius painter. His landscapes are some of the most strikingly beautiful images ever created. But, behind the scenes, Bob was a serial killer. He killed people all over the United States, painting their landscapes as a way to conceal his crimes. One day, a detective recognized one of Bob's paintings as a crime scene from a recent killing. He was able to arrest Bob and bring him to justice. Now, his landscapes are all just paintings, and no one ever has to fear being murdered by this talented artist again. | Bob Ross was not your typical artist. For one, he always used a landscape format for his paintings. For another, he always chose really scenic, beautiful places for his paintings. But what nobody knew was that each of those landscape paintings was actually a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer. He would travel around the country, finding beautiful places to visit and paint. But while he was there, he would also find people to kill. He would strangle them, stab them, shoot them - whatever method he felt like using at the time. And then he would leave their bodies in the very place that he had painted. No one ever suspected Bob Ross of being a killer. He was always so gentle and kind, always had a smile on his face. But the truth was that he was a cold-blooded murderer. And the only way anyone would ever know would be to look at his paintings - and see the bloody bodies hidden within them. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | I wept trustfully as I walked home from school. I knew no one else in the city, so there were the few tears that refused to forgotten. It made me feel deeper and harder to keep them within the lines that book-IPP wrote. I knew how things would change now that I was the onlyjabberw Clown in the city. The other kids were spread out all over the city, testing each other's muscles and teeth. I felt the tears that narrative lines made, but I knew they would only lead to pain. I would keep the tears, though. Because they would be my mark of Shame. | The first time I saw her, I was total shocked. I didn’t know what to say to her or how to act. She was crying, and I was completely confused. It felt like a thing that couldn’t be happening. After that, I started to see her more often. She would cry, and I would try to comfort her. We would talk about what had caused her tears, and what I could do to make her feel better. After a while, I started to think of her as my friend. We would talk, laugh, and cry together. It was hard when she would start to cry and I couldn’t help, but I loved her for it. Eventually, we got married. And now, we live with the scars of our past together. We know that crying isn’t the only thing that makes us feel better, and we’re grateful for every moment we spend together. | The world was a different place if tears left scars as they trickled down someone 's face. The people would be too scared to show their emotions, and the world would be a sadder place. But there was one man who loved the world just the way it was. He would always cry, and the tears would leave scars on his face. But he loved the way the world looked, and he loved the way it felt. | If tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face, the world would be a very different place. People would be much more careful with their words, knowing that they could literally leave a mark on someone. Relationships would be more tentative, as people would be afraid to hurt each other. And, in general, people would be a lot more careful with their emotions. This change would have a ripple effect on everything in the world. The way we interact with each other, the way we handle conflict, the way we express ourselves - it would all be different. And it would all be for the better. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
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| 1 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | That was how origin story began. That is, when 28-year-old Sarah got a bigko training from her seems man, who claimed to be her brother. She was minor after all. Little did she know, her actions someday led to the biggest lie of them all. | You meet someone that you think is interesting. They tell you a story that is full of Lies. You think you can trust them, but you are wrong. The more lies they tell, the bigger the mark that they leave on their body. | I was intrigued by the stranger as I approached, and I couldn't help but to notice the huge scar running down the side of his face. It was huge, and it looked as if it had been inflicted with a lot of pain. As I got closer, I could see that the scar was also a deep purple color, complementing his dark skin perfectly. I felt my curiosity grow, and I asked him about it. He told me that the scar was from when he was a kid. He had been lying on the ground during a playground fight, and someone had punched him in the face. The punch had been so hard that it had broke his jawbone and sliced open his face. He had been in a coma for a few weeks, and when he woke up, he had to learn to walk and talk again. That was the biggest lie he had ever told, and it had left a big scar on his face. | You meet someone at a party and strike up a conversation. They tell you that they've only ever lied once in their life, and the scar on their chest is proof of it. They tell you that the lie was so big and so deep that it nearly destroyed them. But they managed to pull through and now they're living proof that it's possible to survive a lie. You're mesmerized by their story and the scar that stands testament to it. You can't help but admire their strength and courage. In that moment, you feel like you've found a kindred spirit. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician is on stage and the rabbit is standing behind him, playing second fiddle. The rabbit is pronounced name is by some to beisms and by others to be a true beginner's horse. The magician takes up residence in the front row, preventing the rabbit from seeing himself as a viable second fiddle. The rabbit becomes sick of playing second fiddle and decides to get back to work. | The magician was watching from the wings as the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. He had always been there for the rabbit, always willing to help out, but the rabbit wasn't happy. It was getting on his nerves that the magician always had to be so one-upping. "Hey, rabbit, stop being a pushover. You're amazing, but if you're not careful, people may start to forget that you're just a rabbit." The rabbit nodded its head, grateful for the words of warning. It knew that it had to keep up the act or else it would eventually be pushed out of the crowd. But the magician was right, it was getting on the rabbit's nerves. It would have to be more colorful and exciting in its performances. | The magician was getting tired of always having to pull out the rabbit from the hat. It was always the same thing: the rabbit would be sick of waiting and would run offstage before the magician could even turn it into a hat. One night, the magician was so fed up that he decided to do something different. He took out a sword instead of the rabbit and began to fight against the other magicians on stage. He was quickly defeated, but it was worth it to finally be the one who was center stage. | The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is tired of being the assistant. He's sick of being pulled out of a hat and being treated like a prop. So, during the next trick, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs the magician's wand and starts performing his own magic. The audience is amazed and the magician is furious. The rabbit has finally stolen the show and he's not going back to being the assistant anytime soon. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. | At the age of 15, she wasombie Henderson was Karma's with the most consequence in the world. After she'sPostsBARE Wire on social media to warn the world about the dangers ofBooJd, Henderson is born into a military family. Her parents were always hopes of Virginity in the house, but she is the only one who can stop them from making history. | To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. The first time you activate your birth control device, you're surprised to find that you're not the only one. All of your classmates have the same device implanted into their bodies. It's strange, but they all seem to be happy with the arrangement. You spend the first few years of your career trying to figure out how to use the device properly. Most of the time, it's easy. But every now and then, you happen across something that makes you crazy. For example, one of your classmates comes to you with a really stupid idea. She wants to create a society where everyone is born with a birth control device so that the stupid people can't reproduce. you and your audit team have to work hard to prevent that from happening. | I was born in a world where birth control was mandatory. All adults were implanted with a device during puberty that would prevent them from reproducing unless they were determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, responsible for determining who was fit to continue living. It was a hard job, but I was determined to do my best. I reviewed the records of everyone who was implanted with the device and decided whom to deactivate. It was a tough decision, but I knew that the best interests of humanity were always my top priority. | As an Auditor for the Birth Control Authority, it is my job to determine who is worthy of having their birth control device deactivated. It is a weighty responsibility, as the future of humanity depends on only the smartest and most stable people reproducing. I interview each applicant and give them a battery of tests to assess their intelligence and emotional stability. It is not an easy job, but someone has to do it. The stakes are simply too high to leave it up to chance. There have been a few close calls over the years, but so far we have been successful in preventing the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It is a daunting task, but one that I am proud to do. | ``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch. |
| 4 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is in disrepair, with items missing from where they are supposed to be. The characters are a GM and a player, trying to get some combat experience together. The player wants to sell some gear, and the GM wants to make sure the shop is safe before Lorelei can liberally blessed the place. | It was a typical day at my pawn shop. I was bargaining with a group of adventurers, trying to get the best deal for some powerful gear they had acquired. I was always happy to help out someone in need, and I was especially helpful to those who had a lot of gear. I was making a few transactions when I heard someone calling out to me. I turned to see a young girl, balancing a large bag of treasure in one hand and a grinned face in the other. "Can I buy this one?" she asked me, pointing to a weapon I was selling. I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided that it would be a good opportunity to make a deal. I gave her the weapon, and she shook it off before running away, happy to get the gear she wanted. I did not mind her coming to my pawn shop, as long as she was always happy. In the end, she always got what she wanted, and I got to keep the weapon. | I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. It's a great way to make some money and it's always interesting to see what the adventurers bring in. Today, I was haggling with a young, inexperienced adventurer. He was trying to sell a bandit's treasure, but I wasn't interested. I told him that it was worth less than the gold he was offering. He wasn't happy, but he went away. I'm sure he'll come back again with a better offer. | You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for good loot. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell you their loot, and you always try to get the best deal. Sometimes you feel like you're being taken advantage of, but you always try to get the best deal for your shop. | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 5 | Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. | Bob Ross has been painting landscape paintings for many years, each of his locations being a place that he has killed many people in. The landscape has always been a source of inspiration for him, and he knows that it will continue to be so. One day, he is--+ 'There we are!' He looked out the window and saw a small town across the river. 'What do you see?') He looked back at the painting and saw that it was indeed his place. He had killed many people in it, but now it was his new home. | Bob Ross had a dark and sketchy history. His paintings often featured blood and violence, and most of his murders remain unsolved to this day. One day, a detective named Tom decided to take a closer look at Ross's work. Tom was interested in the parallels between Ross's crimes and the many places he had killed. As he began to piecing together Ross's life, Tom soon became convinced that his illustrator's murders were connected. Each painting featured a real location, and Tom was able to link them all together. Now, with evidence and clues in hand, Tom is working tirelessly to find the killer. He knows that there is only one person who can solve the murders of Bob Ross and dozens of other murderers, and he will do whatever it takes to get them justice. | Bob Ross was one of the most famous landscape painters of all time. He created beautiful paintings of mountains, hills, rivers, and forests, all of which were real places. However, over the years, it has been discovered that Bob Ross committed countless murders in each of these locations. For years, he was able to get away with it, but now the police are finally getting close to catching him. | Bob Ross was not only a talented painter, but he was also a serial killer. For years, he travelled across the country, murdering people and using their blood to paint his iconic landscapes. Now, the different locations of his paintings are known as the sites of his countless murders. Many people still admire his work, unaware of the dark secret behind it. Some say that his paintings are haunted by the spirits of his victims. Others believe that Ross himself is still out there, somewhere, painting more landscapes and adding more locations to his gruesome collection. | The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.'' |
| prompt | A | B | C | D | E | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. | The shop is small, and some adventurers find the opportunity to acquire valuable loot charming. Others find the hand-on-dragons system toohz Content-entious. While there are some good offers, only a small percentage of players would eligble for one of the more notable NPCs. So, the shop is small, and players are .. Culled. In fact, the only players in the shop are you, the shop-owner, and two adventurers. The adventurers are from different regions, and they have different wants in terms of content in the shop. The shop is where players Transaction is done, and players can use theshop to purchase items. Players can also use theshop to purchase items from thein-game currency. adventurers can also use the shop to purchase items from thein-game currency. | There was once a town in the middle of a forest where an RPG pawn shop was located. The shop was known for being the best in the area, and it was always packed with adventurers who would try to sell theirahloot they've acquired. The adventurers who frequented the shop were all very talented in the game, and they would always come up with new and amazing techniques to get the most money out of their sales. One day, a new player made an appearance at the pawnshop. He was a very peculiar character, and he didn't seem to be familiar with the game. He came in and started bargaining for some of the RPG cards that were on the shelf. He seemed to be very desperate, and he wasn't even asking for a high price. He just wanted to buy them. The other players in the shop started to get a bit suspicious. They didn't think that this new player was capable of anything competitive or smart. They didn't think that he could even understand the game. Suddenly, the new player began to sword fight one of the other players in the store. He was incredibly successful, and he quickly overpowered the other player. The other players in the store started to back away in fear. The new player then turned to them and began to say incredible things. He said that he had "the best skills in the game," and he could defeat any player in a fair fight. The other players were so astonished by this that they didn't know how to react. The new player then turned his attention to the remaining players in the store, and he began to insult them. He said that they were all "stupid players," and he could beat them easily. The other players started to cry, and they didn't know what to do. The new player then walked out of the pawnshop, and he never came back again. The players in the store know that he wasn't just there to buy RPG cards, and he probably did something very bad to the other players. | It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The customers were coming in, trying to sell whatever they had acquired while adventuring. Some were trying to get a good deal, others were just trying to get rid of their unwanted items. I was haggling with a group of adventurers. They were selling a treasure trove of items they had found while on their latest adventure. I was trying to get them to lower their price, but they wouldn't budge. In the end, I decided to give them a lower offer than what they wanted. I thought it was worth it to make some extra money. I was happy to have made a sale and ended the day with a bit of extra cash. | You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're never afraid to lowball an adventurer in order to get what you want. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, looking to sell some loot. She has a few weapons and armor, but nothing that really catches your eye. You start to lowball her, but she's not having it. She's adamant about getting a good price for her loot, and she's not afraid to haggle with you. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally come to an agreement. She gets a fair price for her loot, and you get some new inventory for your shop. It's a win-win! | ``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!'' She says this as she digs into said bag and proceeds to spread hundreds of plants all over my counter. I sneeze. I sneeze again. Fucking lavender. ``Listen-'' I sneeze and motion broadly at the plants, and she responds by picking them up one by one and putting them back in her bag. As she does this, my counter top is littered with a fine layer of pollen, and assorted leaves and petals that I have absolutely no use for because fucking shit I hate my life. I sneeze again and raise my hand to cover my nose. ``That's just, yep-'' ``I don't even know how to make potions!'' she continues as she packs her flowers away, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to the poor novice witch, I'm struck with a brilliant idea. ``Dresden knows how to make potions! And you know *what*?'' I force as cheerful a smile as I can manage, positively beaming with joy. ``I bet he would *love* to teach you! He's single, too!'' I wink. And nudge the air with my elbow, and then reach out to pinch her shoulder. ``And *handsome*.'' Carefully, I gather all of her things in a pile and push them towards her. ``He's right next door. Just tell him that I sent you, k?'' Inclining my head, I watch for her reaction. She's silent, and I assume... well, *hope* that it's because she's thinking. If I imagine enough, I can picture the gears turning in her head. They're a little rusted, but they're still there and that's what counts. I watch a smile curve her lips. ``It would be really nice to have a warm meal to come home to every night....'' ``It *sure* would.'' ``And with the extra gold, I could afford some better armor and weapons!'' ``Why, that you could!'' ``That's a really good idea! I think I'll have to go over there!'' She pauses, having caught a glimpse of the llama pile. *Please no, please no, please no. * ``... Do you think you could give me six gold for the llamas?'' ``I'm sorry.'' I smile and point to the door. I can hear the bard starting to croon, and I'm just not doing this anymore. No. Nope. ``But if you don't leave now, you might miss him. I heard he loves llamas. Please go now before I kill myself and everyone around me.'' Cautiously, and slowly, she wraps her arms around her pile of miscellaneous junk and backs away, giggling nervously. ``... I-I'll see you later.'' I wave. ``Yep.'' |
| 2 | A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. | The magician pulls out a rabbit from the hat he is wearing and sets it down on the floor. The rabbit looks at him with a sick look, but after a moment of thought, begins to walking off to the right instead. The magician annoyedly looks at it, but doesn't say anything. | The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and set it on the ground. He told the rabbit that it was time to end its engagement with him. The rabbit grumbled, but decided to go along with the magician. The magician setup a few tricks, but the rabbit just looked at him, frustrated. The magician then told the rabbit that if it didn't want to keep playing second fiddle, then it should just run away. The rabbit grumbled, but decided to stay. | The magician steps up to the podium and starts to speak. "Hello, everyone! I am sure you are all excited to see my latest performance. As you know, I always bring out the best in my rabbits. Today, I have a special rabbit for you. She's a little bit different than the others. She's not very magical. In fact, I'm not sure she even exists. Nevertheless, she is a part of my performance, and I hope you enjoy her." The crowd murmurs, some excited, some skeptical. The magician pulls out a card from his pocket and looks at it. "Okay, let's get started. First, I want you all to take a look at my rabbit, Alice. Now, Alice is not very special. She's just a regular rabbit. But I want you to watch how I handle her. I'll take Alice out on stage, and I'll put her in my hand. I'll show her to the audience, and then I'll let her go. But here's the tricky part. Alice cannot disappear. She exists in the world, but she cannot leave it. So when I let her go, she will still be here, onstage, for you to see. So pay close attention!" The magician takes Alice out on stage, and the audience cheers. He shows her to the crowd, and then let her go. But Alice is still there, in the magician's hand. He starts to pull her back out, but she stays there, firmly rooted to the stage. The audience starts to get angry, and some of them start to boo. The magician starts to panic. He knows he has to get Alice off stage fast before people start to riot. He tries to pull her again, but she doesn't budge. He starts to cry, "Help! Somebody help me!" The crowd starts to get even angrier, and they start to throw things at the magician. Alice just stays there, rooted to the floor. The magician is defeated, and he disappears off stage, leaving Alice behind. | The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands. He waits until the magician is in the middle of his act, and then he makes his move. He jumps out of the hat and onto the stage, and he starts doing his own tricks. The audience goes wild, and the magician is furious. But the rabbit doesn't care. He's finally free, and he's going to show the world what he can do. | His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room. |
| 3 | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You don't know what to do with him, you want to hug and kiss him, but you can't decide which is more Celia Bernadette's book, story or no story. You feel like she's always been there, just beyond your reach. You go to spend time with her, but she doesn't want to talk. She just stands there, with a big, beautiful, white scar on her bottom. You can't believe how slow it is for her to come to terms with her history. But you can't keep looking away either, because that would be to much intoOTOS her defect. You go over it all in your head time and time again, but it's like the words don't matter, the history isn't worth it. You can't eventyle try and move past it. Finally, youhours have rolling around in your head and you're on the brink of Federationing when you finally decide to talk to her. You the begin at the beginning and slowly work your way back. You see how it started, the start of her story, and how it led her to where she is now. The most important thing is that she's okay, and you want to be there to help her bring her story to consumate. The more you talk, the more her mind starts to focus and she starts to see the value in her story. You're no longer just living in the past, but rather, the story you want to tell is true. She is not alone and you can be a part of her story. The more you help, the more she starts to heal and start to feel safe. As she starts to realize how much work there is ahead of her, she starts to feel lighter and more content. She realized that she could handle anything she came with, because she had always been browserable. Now, she knows that she can do anything she wants and she knows that she can handle it. The scar on her bottom is a reminder that there is always something worth taking on. It's a lesson that she needs to learn and she knows that you can understand because you have always existed within its scope. | You watch as he walks around, his movements an blur as he | I never thought I would meet someone like her. She is the most honest person I have ever met. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. Even her lies have one simple goal- to make friends. I was drawn to her at first sight. Her honesty was refreshing, and I found myself wanting to know more about her. I soon found out that she only had one scar- the biggest one I had ever seen. I asked her what happened, and she told me that she had been truthful the entire time. The lie had created a larger scar on her soul, but she was happy and content. I was amazed by her bravery, and I felt inspired by her. I decided that I would be like her and be truthful from now on. I would never have to worry about the consequences of my lies, because I would know that they would only create a smaller scar on my body. | You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you the story of their life. They say that they were born into a family of liars. Everyone lied about everything, big or small. It was just what they did. As a result, everyone in their family had scars all over their bodies. But then, one day, they decided to stop lying. They decided to tell the truth, no matter what. Since then, they've only had that one scar. It's the scar of their past, of the life they used to live. But it's also a reminder of the strength it took to change. | My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''. |
| 4 | Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. | The little girl had been living in her bedroom all along. By the time she was newly born, her mother had not yet placed her in a bedroom against her own wish. She was at home in the corner of the room, between the bed and the wall. The little girl contents herself with the knowledge that she is not really alone. The soft glow of the television sites near by, but the early morning sun only casts a pale glow on the room. She evictionens the lightbulb and the lamp, both of which she has kept on 24/7 to avoid any potential embarrassment if anyone looks. | The Invisible Layer For as long as I can remember, I've had a secret. It's something I keep hidden from everyone I know, but I know it exists. And I know it's been living in my home, silently manipulating me for years. One day, I decided to confront my secret. I took apart my home and exposed the invisible layer. It didn't take long for the Invisibility Layer to take over my body. I was petrified, but I knew I had to face it. Since then, I've been able to live a normal life. But I still have the fear that the Invisible Layer will come back and manipulate me again. I have to be careful what I say and think, or else the Invisible Layer will know I'm aware of it. | I've been living in this house for years, and I've never noticed anything strange. But now, there's something else living here with me. I can't see it, but I know it's there. Every time I turn around, I feel like I'm being watched. I can't shake the feeling that somebody is watching me, and I don't know how to make it go away. I need to find out what's lurking in the shadows, and I need to do it soon. | I can feel it watching me. I can feel its presence in the room, even though I can't see it. I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, it's invisible. I've tried to expose it, to catch it off guard. I've set up cameras in my house, hoping to catch a glimpse of it on film. But so far, nothing has worked. It's always one step ahead of me. I'm not sure what it wants, but I know I can't let it keep living in my house. I have to find a way to get rid of it, even if that means putting my own life at risk. | “ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar. Suddenly there was darkness, a splitting pain exploded through my head like a spark of lightening, down to my spine as the world faded away. Oh god. My wife, she would be home soon. She would be alone with it. “ I got home at four and there he was, face down on the kitchen floor, coated in flour. The only thing that stood out then was the blood dripping down his temple where it hit the counter when he fell. Please, please tell me he's okay. I... I don't know what must have come over him doctor. He hasn't been right since the stroke. I've tried to stay with him, he won't leave the house, he barely eats, barely sleeps. I don't know what happened but... I'm afraid that if things keep going this way I'll really lose him. The house is in disarray... there are endless unfinished projects, and he doesn't even remember what he's forgotten to do, I don't know if he even knows where we live anymore. ” |
| 5 | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone ’ s face? How would this change our world? Tell the story... | What if tears left scars as they trickled down someone's face? How would this change our world? Tell the story. | One day, a woman cried her eyes out for hours on end. She had just watched her son drown in the river and there seemed nothing she could do to help. As she wept, she imaginable scenarios played in her mind of what could have been. If she only had intervened sooner. If only she could have saved him...or if only she could read the signs. But she couldn't. And as the hours passed, the reality of her situation sunk in. The news reports were frustrating as they didn't give any details on what had happened. Many people would have given up by now, but she didn't. Not after watching her son drown. Eventually, she sit down and started to write a letter to the newspaper. In it she said that she was sorry that she couldn't save her son, but she didn't give up. She kept waiting for something to change, but it never came. The story ended with her son's funeral, and she still didn't give up. | Tears streamed down my face as I tried to console my loved one. We had just been told that our much-loved pet had passed away. The pain was overwhelming and I knew that I would never be the same. But as I looked at my tear-streaked face in the mirror, I noticed that my skin was slightly different. Whereas before, my skin was flawless, now there were small, raised scars all over it. I couldn ’ t help but wonder how this change would affect the world. Would people be less willing to touch me or even look at me? But despite the fears that ran through my mind, I knew that I had to continue living. I had to keep going, even though my heart was break-ing. Because sometimes, in life, we have to face our fears head on. And that, is what made me the strongest person I knew. | The little girl was crying her heart out, the tears falling freely down her face. As she cried, she could see the scars forming on her skin, permanent reminders of her pain. She would have to live with these scars forever, a constant reminder of the hurt she felt inside. This girl was not the only one with scars like this. All over the world, people were walking around with the marks of their sadness etched into their skin. Some people hid their scars away, ashamed of them, while others embraced them as a part of who they were. The world was a different place now, with people bearing their sorrows on their skin for all to see. Some say that it made people more compassionate towards one another, while others say that it just made the world a more painful place to live in. Either way, it was clear that things would never be the same again. | Marin showed up to school on Monday with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Her weekend away had gone exactly as planned, she'd gotten a tan, and even hit on a few of the local boys. It was definitely something she wanted to do again. There were only a few scars that ran in little white lines down the sides of her face, but if anything, it was from joy. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school a little later on Tuesday, from having to ride the bus, which was odd because she normally got rides from her parents. Her smile was a little dimmer, but still noticeable, and any joy she'd had the day before from her trip seemed to have vanished as though it had never happened at all. There were fresh scars at the sides of her face, and a few of her friends asked if she was okay, but she waved them away with a half-hearted ``yeah''. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school before anyone else on Wednesday, even before a few of the teachers. Her smile was as dim as light stretched across the universe, but if you stared long enough, you could catch glimpses of it every now and then. A few friends got out of her that she had walked to school that morning, since her parents refused to drive her, which they found startling, considering she lived over five miles away. Her scars were more prominent on her cheeks, and there seemed to be more of them than usual, but sometimes stress did that to you. No one questioned it. Marin showed up to school two hours late on Thursday, because her alarm clock was broken. She said her Dad had accidentally dropped it and it broke, and her phone died well into the night. Her cheeks were dominated by thin, white lines that stuck out against her tanned-skin, meaning scars from her tears must have formed over other scars. Bruises lined her arms and some formed a small ring around her neck that, if you took a closer look, almost resembled fingerprints. She had worn a sweater that day to hide them. Her friends questioned her, tried to get her to talk, but she refused to open her mouth. Marin didn't show up to school on Friday. Her friends called her number several times, but every time it went to voicemail. They worried about her constantly throughout the day, and thought of the little white scars on her cheeks. The scars of a broken girl that tried so hard to hold onto anything she could, even going so far as to spend her bank account for a weekend out, trying to find light in the darkness of her life. But the darkness had gotten to her first, and it consumed her. In a world where tears leave traces of themselves on people's skin, it was easy to tell who was sad, who had the brightest smile, and, above all, who needed help the most. |